Closet Emo Work: Progressing

A piece of writing from a time in my life that I look back on in shame. I add this for those here who enjoy reading this style. Open to review only.

 

I try and try.

It gets worse and worse,

No matter what I do to stop the pain.

I try to find out what happened.

I try to see what I did wrong.

To be hated, and loved, despised and adored, it really confuses one’s mind.

As I move on in life, it haunts me.

It won’t let me forget.

It keeps tormenting me, as if I’m it’s little play thing.

As I try to escape, it cuts my life in half.

If I try to find out why, it grows to hate me more.

It keeps me for reasons I don’t know.

It tells me it wants me gone, but, yet it keeps me around.

As it slowly tears me apart, piece by piece, the pain of it all courses through me.

It is and unstoppable pain that always drives one mad.

They torment me with it.

They make me feel it.

They will not let me alone.

It goes on and on forever.

For an eternity it hurts,

Hurts with every living molecule of your very existence.

The thing that holds you together, the thing that makes you exist, it’s being gnashed at, gnawed on, and torn apart.

As the pain of it grows, so does your desire to stop it.

The thought crosses your mind.

You ignore it for now.

You find the soul of weapon.

You’ve finally decided how.

At first you know to take the knife, and prepare it for this task.

After that, the rest is blank, for the blackness is like a mask.

The last thing you remember, before you finally end your life,

Your wrists are red.

You know you’re dead, as you finally drop the knife.

Reviews

[Amy Carrington]

o_0 now my wrists feel funny...creepy...

[Dark Daughters]

Well, I say this with a smirk, it was incredibly emo ^_^, although I do hate that word! Good poem though