2 poems I wrote about wanting to cut (could be triggering)

I wrote these poems in the middle of the night the other night when I was severely wanting to cut myself. I was able to make it through the night without cutting. Somehow the emotions came out as poetry, not cuts.


"Drip Drip"

Everything is fake,
The blade gives way to life.

Drip.
        Drip.

April slips into May.

Drip.
        Drip.

The blade, it calls to me,
Tells me to cut.

Drip.