The poem as prey, as blood luscious, elusive. The poem as the locked room.
37 posts
Tw: Self Harm, Ed
Tw: self harm, ed
Alternate universe
In an alternate universe,
I am 14 and alone in my room,
And my hands haven't harmed myself yet.
In an alternate universe,
My mom isn't emotionally dead,
And my dad isn't the monster yet.
In an alternate universe,
I still have her by my side,
I haven't screwed everything yet.
In an alternate universe,
I don't flinch when I look in the mirror,
There are no scars on my thighs yet.
In an alternate universe,
I still eat like a normal person,
I haven't ruined myself yet.
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More Posts from Unlikelyanonymous
The grave that I call my home
Where love doesn't exist.
The monster that I call my father
For whom peace doesn't exist.
The demon that I call my mother
For whom compassion doesn't exist.
The nightmare that I call my world
For which I dont exist.
The despair that I call myself
For whom joy doesnt exist.
The curse that I call my life
Where living doesn't exist.
Tw: eating disorders and self harm
The monsters in my head. They won't leave.
An empty stomach. A grave where I live.
Scars on my thighs. A strange relief.
A disconsolate existence. A sigh of grief
My shattered childhood. It haunts me still
Whimpers of pain. A broken will.
Venomous family. Full of greed.
Begged you to stop it. It never did.


Spring is awaking from its slumber 🤍💐🌾
Thorn to my rose
Pic via pinterest

In a room full of strangers, our eyes met in secrecy.
With that striking smile of yours, you simply just ended me.
Gently whispered words killed me more than any poison could.
Loved you way too fondly than any lover ever should.
In frightened voice and shaky hands, I was scared to lose you.
In granted lives and afterlife, I was never meant to have you.
What is life anymore, if not just the absence of you?
Had to watch you bleed to death, what is even left to lose?
Once again in life I am terrified to let you close.
You were my known ruin. A lethal thorn, my gentle rose.
Pic via pinterest

Is it normal to grieve yourself?
And still yearn the grief?
To know you'll be eternally hurting,
Why is it such a relief?