TW: Using ice as an escape of self harm

The party was set, the plans in place,
but all fell apart in a quick disgrace.
Two words to my brother, "Get out!" I said,
now I'm the one facing anger instead.

My phone, my laptop, all taken away,
a punishment steep for the price I pay.
No pajamas, no friends, just silence here,
locked in the bathroom, escaping the fear.

Ice on my arms, cold and slow,
numbness spreading as the moments go.
The sting turns soft, my skin blooms red,
roses rising where pain has fled.

I wait for tears, but none arrive,

just frozen feelings, barely alive.

In this quiet space, I close my eyes,

wondering why I even try.