Deviation Actions
Literature Text
I do it to myself all the time.
I don't try to hurt myself,
Or make myself bleed,
But I torture myself
With the crimson chains
That I wrap around myself
So I don't have to feel.
I spin these cobwebs in my mind
And trap myself in my terror.
I stab my heart again and again
And push my nerves to breaking point.
Someone dead I could have saved.
Sometimes I fail from cowardice,
Sometimes from not knowing enough,
Sometimes from reading all the signals wrong.
Either way, they're dead,
And I failed them.
And the thought chokes me
Even though it never happened.
Trust betrayed by every friend,
A fear so deep it will never fade.
I still remember the sting of the past,
All the times it happened before,
And now I'm just waiting,
Watching the clock,
Watching the knife that slices my time
Waiting for it to cut me loose again.
And the thought makes me shiver
Even though I'm safe – for now.
Snapping, breaking, losing myself,
The vivid darkness all too clear,
And I wonder how I see my shadow
Thrown into such sharp relief
As I set the pallid stage
For the finale of this tragedy.
And the thought horrifies me
Even though I'm still sane.
Although sometimes I wonder if I am.
Why would anyone sane
Choose to torment themselves like this?
And yet I do it all the time.
But I fear to call for help,
Which makes me twice a coward.
Unable to face my fears,
Unable to face another.
I was always the one
Who was willing to walk through the dark,
However much it scared me,
But now I wonder if those shadows
Reached into my mind
And still linger somewhere
In that withered, dying thorn
I call my heart.