I want this.

I am
Numb,
Unfeeling,
Unhuman.
I want to be free.

I get up
From the floor.
I grab
My small, wooden box,
Created only for times such as these.

I rip
The bandages.
It's not as if
I want
To heal.

I draw
The blade.
Dull, of course.
That's the only way to
Feel
The pain.

I'm a prisoner to my despair.
A mere slave to an evil master.
I press
The blade
To my rough, scarred skin.

My shoulder surges with pain, and
My breath is sharp as the liquid pain begins to flow.
Six cuts. Its was a
Normal
Friday night after all.

I wrap a sock around my bleeding shoulder.
Not for my own sake, rather my carpet's.
My mother
Always
Loved it more than
Me.

My veins bulge,
My body is pissed.
I don't belong.
Not like I used to.
Back when I was
Happy.

The sock is soaked,
So much for
The precious carpet.

"Emo", "Fag"
Throw your fucking stones.
By next week, I'll be
Gone.

I want this.