mouse (squeekiemouse) wrote in muse_of_angels,
mouse
squeekiemouse
muse_of_angels

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promised postings of writing on self mutilation...


First, i would like to say this: I DO NOT CUT MYSELF. At least, not anymore. I am past that. I understand myself so much more and i am able to express my internal pain in other ways that work. This is one of those ways. Writing poetry, writing anything helps me deal with my emotions, scars and all that, even if i take that writing to an extreme that i would never even think about in real life.
I do not mean to offend anyone. I do not mean to encourage cutting. I do not mean to do anything but share my writing, maybe start a discussion and share thoughts. Comments and constructive critisisms are welcome, but i will not tolerate insults or any other form of destructive message.
Thoughts on the matter are welcome too, if you feel the want or need to discuss it. I will explain my writing also, if you ask it of me.


Instructions

These dotted lines adorn my hide
Twisting and curving about me
Inside and out, the lines confide
A desire, to those who see

They make no purposeful design
But the intention is very clear
Words tag along next to each line:
“Cut here,” I wrote. “Cut here.”

---


People say
That the things that haunt you
Are shadows
That their shadows are dark
And black.
And they lurk.
That they hold deep dark secrets
And whisper dark thoughts into their ears.
Never leave them alone
Never alone within their own minds
Never for a moment

My shadow isn’t dark
Isn’t black
It is scarlet
It whispers bloody thoughts into my ears
A reminder of what I did
What I did to myself
Its not a secret
Not to anyone who can see
See the scars on my hide
It never leaves me
Physical evidence
I can show you my Scarlet Shadow
Can you show me your black one?
Your scarlet one?


The dark shadows
Hang over their heads
Their shadows scare them
Weigh them down
Hang on their souls
Make them forever guilty
Make them pay

How can my Scarlet One make me pay?
It was born out of self punishment
Blood forged shackles on my wrists
The Scarlet one does not scare me
It entices a sick passion
Not fear
It makes me want
Want want want want
It makes me want it
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