Poetry about Borderline Personality Disorder, focusing particularly on feelings of emptiness and self-hatred, and the resulting self-injury that often follows.
Look out my window and all I see are clouds
Guess I’m floating again
But I can’t remember what the rx was
This time
Keep the pad
Break the pen
I found the formula for self-destruction
Walk out the door
Your face is the sun
I think I fucked it up again
But what was the combination that opened the lock?
Hide the pad
Throw the pen
I figured out the code for blocking my way
The phone rings but the line’s been cut
The knife’s on the bed
Napping with the pills and empty bottles of booze
And the blood on my hands says the gig’s up
Call the doctor
Write it down
I need to reverse the damage I’ve done.
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