self destruction (Remove filter)

And You Said "Oops"

I’m self-destructing. 


You pushed the button.

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self destructionhurtsad poetry

The Subtle Ways I Suffer

I make myself suffer in subtle ways.


In constantly drinking the worst flavor of Monster Energy.

In dragging smoke into my lungs time and time again.

In breaking promises to myself, to my friends.

In failing all my classes.

In not taking my meds.

In falling in love with two of my best friends.

In refusing to tell anybody any of this. 


Pain tastes so much better in ...

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falling in loveself harmself destructiondepressionmedication

I Don't Know the Definition of "Metaphor"

There's a metaphor here, somewhere;

It’s in the delicate lace gloves hiding my self harm scars.


There's a metaphor here, somewhere;

It’s in the lipstick smile I paint on my face.


There's a metaphor here, somewhere;

It’s in the smoke I choke on, the smoke I purposefully pulled into my lungs.


There's a metaphor here, somewhere;

It’s in the semicolon I placed in th...

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Metaphorsad poetrydisappointmentself destructionself harm

Where You Begin

The first time

Is a pin prick

To unstitch

Your skin

To feel yourself


You search your being

You are it:

Coursing through yourself

The second time

You search inside

A stranger

Behind the corner shop

You find where he begins


But come back,

Stinking of rot

Void of thought

To feel what?

What are you searching for?

To begin ag...

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beginselfidentitysearchseekadrenalineriskfindfeelnumbself destructionrebornendattemptmisunderstooddepressionanxietythrill seekself harmalcoholmisusetaboostigmasex

A fight to survive

Seeing the beautiful sky,

From my dead eyes.

Wondering the beauty in the holy night,

Dark was the only colour which helps me to hide.


Hiding my sadness my sorrows my fear my cries,

Trying my best to keep the face with smile.

My hobbies,my joy, my emotions were becoming day by day a bit fewer,

Now I am just existing in the world, can't even face myself in the mirror.



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anxietydarkdepressionfearfighthatehelplesshelplessnessnightovercomeself destructionself harmself hate



I am a battering ram

Undulating forward with a willful lack of grace

Constantly pushing, pulsing

Headlong into an uncertain oblivion

Destroying myself

Taking pleasure in the pain

The anxiety

Destroying what once was beautiful

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anxietydepressiondarkself destruction


I'm constricted by the fact, that life is to share,

I just see poor judgment, and a silly content,

of stay where you were hand, to raised and to forget.

Over bed or on couch, your time shall come next,

As the rest of your days, bad-thoughts, hopes and prays.


It is said that's not true, for you to be alone,

So to them I should say, my half never became.

I've been thinking ...

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couplehateinner thoughtslovepeace of mindself destruction


I am the wind

you are the ash,

the gust swept remains of a long awaited death.


I am the world warmed,

thanking the dawn after a long

visionless night,


I am that rejoicing bird

flying over your grave.


I am the sun,

setting above the black valleys

from where I rose - the lightness 

you couldn't hold,


you were the darkness exposed.


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self destruction

New Wounds

Fetch the scissors
Bring the knife too
I've found something 
for me to do

Watch the blood drip
Make a red puddle
They all seem to judge
Without knowing the struggle

If they can all hurt me
I can hurt me too
I feel like I deserve it anyway,
That's why I do what I do

"Attention seeker"
That's what they label me
But they don't know
What I have to see

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depressionanxietyself harmself destruction

Blood Knot

I got a taste for blood last night.

It wasn’t yours,

It wasn’t his,

It wasn’t hers,


I got a taste for blood last night and it was my own.

Sometimes I consider draining myself dry,

Sucking myself into sand

Come, watch me crumble.

I got a taste for the blood which runs

From my lips.

But nobody ever described self destruction like this,

I never considered I mig...

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blooddarknessenjoymentpleasuresadismself destructionspirallingstruggle

did I ever say I was “good people”?

did I ever say I was “good people”?

some days I miss the hasty shouting

the crack of fist on salted cheekbones


better that than the nauseous choice

of considered upholstery or designer phones

never weather appropriate, rather, accident


ripped and bleeding, waiting for some other

and days my head will fill with men of war

always in shock yet mostly in awe



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despairaginglongingself destructionloss

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