I'm starving myself. Killing me slowly, living with nothing to live for. I'm glad I'll be gone, for you've spat on my needs and burned them.

I'm cutting myself. Letting the blood flow as freely as my tears while you strip me away. Maybe I was loved before I was me.

I'm drugging myself. Letting the smooth pills slide down my hoarse throat, allowing me to die with a smile. Maybe I won't fuck myself over in the next life.

I'm hanging myself. Tieing the rope and kicking away the chair. I hope you find my body and weep as I did.

And live with the guilt of you knowing it was you that drove the car I was in. You who got inside my head. You who were the one who handed me the knife.


Self mutilation is a blessing.