Dark Red Chaos


I sit in my room staring at the wall,

trying to quiet my mind

from its own chaos.

I picture in my memory a beautiful color red,

darker than a cardinal’s breast

spilling onto the floor.

People always ask, “How can you do that to yourself?”

It doesn’t hurt

like they think it should.

I can’t feel the metal as it slides

cold and bitter

along my arm.

My mind is too crowded with thoughts to notice.

Then in the aftermath,

nothing but silence.

I never believed that what I did

mattered to other people

or hurt other people.

I was wrong.

I was selfish.


And still,

the people I loved

reached into the hell I’d built myself

and pulled me out.  


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