(I've been struggling to show anyone this poem for a long time but I've been inspired to let it free. These feelings are behind me now and it turns out writing was to thank for that afterall)

How does someone stop cutting?
Do they cut into the paper instead?
Replace flesh and blood with diaries and ink,
Replace physicality with mentality,
Replace actions with words,

It isn’t enough.

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EYE FOR AN EYE

So tell me, is it because I dared to do what I wasn’t meant to

that you turned against me?

Having feelings for my sworn enemy, doing the thing I was sworn

not to, my love turning me a traitor to my cause,

my religion and all my beliefs?

The way the cards fall are often the strangest hand of all.

To save an enemy from the grave, her grave,

...

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