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Poem 10- Blood And Blame

T.W- Mention of selfharm and suicide.

Sometimes we make enemies of ourselves
just to get rid of that deafening numbness.
It feels like it's smothering my notions.
Whispering words that I don't want to hear.
Criticizing the cuts only i have provided closure
So I opened them wide,
just for the voice to disappear.
I let them blaze,
For the demons i hold,
For the lies I've sold.
Just to stay clear of myself,
Could it be a way of disciplining my soul?
Is it to stop ourselves in becoming
the monsters we know we are in a clearer colour
Or because in the game of blood and blame,
One is easier to stop than the other.

How can I be dramatic
for saying all of this?
When all I want is just some distance,
Away from the prying eyes,
The degrading tries.
Death is like a solace waiting for me,
To envelope me
and maybe cuddle all night.
I know in the end there is no light,
But isn't the light the only thing
That invalidates those invisible beings.
It's not mad, I'm not mad..
I just tend to suck the darkness out of all
But I guess I lacked
in getting the ebony out,
For the monsters,in my head now crawl.

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