Thursday, January 13, 2011

Fighting this Addiction.

A craving for blood
seeking some sort of high?
a sweet red flood
relief shown with a sigh.

An addiction
a forbidden want.
Too many scars
only seem to taunt.

Into remission,
fearing relapse.
I can't fall back to tradition,
no more lines like little red roads on maps.

Falling asleep,
or into my past?

-rachelleeashlee<3.

*K, I know this is kinda crap. This is just what happened when I started typing with tears in my eyes and nobody to talk to. As of right now, I have not actually cut for 5 weeks 5 days. I've come close, but I still haven't. And this itself is its own chapter in my lifes story. 

4 comments:

  1. If you expressed yourself as a means of working through pain without doing alternatives, the poem is worth have been written. Right?

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  2. I know so. I have often called my poetry inexpensive therapy. It allows you to express yourself and get some of the "stuff" out of your system. That is a good thing and DEFINITELY better than the alternative!

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