Self Abuse

Old stuff

Crying fits
Loud yelling through the door
Pounding fists on furniture
Can I take much more?

Hitting myself
No not cutting myself
Why would you think that
I gave that up so long ago

My morals are in need of saving
Along with my soul from drowning
My very life I'm pouring
Down the drain, I'm dying

Every blow I strike connects
Mentally or physically
They both do their damage
They both strike my core

Author's Notes/Comments: 


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