A "Bad" Habit
Horrified by the image portrayed in the mirror,
She twitches away from her own reflection.
Looking back judgmentally as if it were mocking her,
Knowing her entire exterior is marked with imperfection
written all over.
Her unfeminine hands shake due to the object held within,
A sharp carpenter knife is awaiting her frusteration and
plaguing anxieties.
No other logical answer presumes itself,
Besides the dangerous object lurking within her firm grasp.
As if in slow motion, she begins to slit her arm
with immeasurable agility,
Suprisingly, it didn't hurt as bad as expected.
Docile in each, intricate cut of her own flesh,
Her pain is finally being released.
All the whirling emotions bottled up are being liberated,
She can hear the "drip" of each blood-drop
accumulate onto the bathroom sink.
Her eyes remain pensive upon the whole act performed,
as if hypnotized.
Satisfied with the signs of self-mutilation branding both her arms,
She feels an exasperated sigh of relief.
Slowly, she pulls her hooded-sweatshirt over her undaunting head,
To keep away any unwanted questions.
Knowing she could always resort to this coping mechanism,
attributing to her fragile self-identity.
She twitches away from her own reflection.
Looking back judgmentally as if it were mocking her,
Knowing her entire exterior is marked with imperfection
written all over.
Her unfeminine hands shake due to the object held within,
A sharp carpenter knife is awaiting her frusteration and
plaguing anxieties.
No other logical answer presumes itself,
Besides the dangerous object lurking within her firm grasp.
As if in slow motion, she begins to slit her arm
with immeasurable agility,
Suprisingly, it didn't hurt as bad as expected.
Docile in each, intricate cut of her own flesh,
Her pain is finally being released.
All the whirling emotions bottled up are being liberated,
She can hear the "drip" of each blood-drop
accumulate onto the bathroom sink.
Her eyes remain pensive upon the whole act performed,
as if hypnotized.
Satisfied with the signs of self-mutilation branding both her arms,
She feels an exasperated sigh of relief.
Slowly, she pulls her hooded-sweatshirt over her undaunting head,
To keep away any unwanted questions.
Knowing she could always resort to this coping mechanism,
attributing to her fragile self-identity.