Post from a Cutter

I found it again
Or rather it found me
That thing
That thing that makes every cutter
Who they are
Or what they are
It’s that thing inside all of us
The thing that ties us together
Somehow
Keeps us all united
As one.

Its that feeling
The feeling of being
Absolute.
Of being ugly
Like the scars we leave
Upon our skin like forgotten
Photos of our past
They haunt us
Letting us always
Remember
Never forgetting
That feeling.

Sticking out like a
Black sheep in a snowstorm
Like the clothes we adorn ourselves with
It is the never ending idea that we
As one are alike
Because of those scars
Its like the idea of likeness
As a sociolosts knows that its not celebrities who influence us
Its those who are like us, who we can relate to because
Of their past. Because your pasts are like mirrors of one another
So you start to behave like they do
Unconsciously
Because they make you feel
Like your not alone.

But that feeling
The one that says your all alone
That says hey you have had it rough
But everyone has
So don’t be a baby
Don’t cry and mope about your pain
Instead grow strong, get tough
You’re a failure no one expects you to succeed
You’ll never be enough
It’s the feeling that survives after that one is gone
After its footprints have faded from the shore
It’s the feeling that remains like frost on a window pane
It’s the knowledge of what you once were
Of the animal, of the addict
It’s to grasp the concept of fighting to live
of pure distilled survival.

It’s the haunted feeling of fear that follows you at night
That although you are good now, no pain
You can always turn back, look at that mirror,
You can always see your demons shadows.
Its not the same fear, the crushing, defeating direct pressure of death
Buts it’s the same trail, you can see their smell hanging the air
You can see the old path, where their feet once tread
It’s the memory.

And in the end
It’s the knowing
That you can never return to that
Memory.
Survival.
Alone.
Feeling.
One.

The Tongue

Words turn into rags
That wrap around my double edged sword
Soothing its icy metallic spine
Turning it into nothing more than
Grains of sand through my fingers.
But as they fall they transform
Into tender sakura
Singing of both joy and sorrow
Just as a snake opens their mouth
To attack and satisfy curiosity.
So too do we have the power
To grant life or death.