her hands trembled yet she wanted more of that sweet pain that she had craved and had tried to fight it but no matter how hard she tried her pale hands continued to search for that sharpened blade.

he had hurt her so badly this time. she was not going to take anymore of this painful torturish abuse. mental exsaustion fell onto her. no more will to fight that she thought. nothing to fight right now. i just want peace.

her father screams. they all scream. nothing has been right. i am not write she thought. her hands had found that stainless steel that had been screaming to her from the kitchen drawer. her thoughts raced along with her quickening heart. her music were blarring ubseen words and twisted messages yet all she wanted in life was to prove she could fix the fuck up that she was. she alone would try and no one could help her this time. she was to far into the hole. fuck it she thought as her cig ash fell to the floor.
ubsenities raced into her heart as her mind flashed back to a time when she was young. even thens he was not a child yet a young adult still yearning and hoping to find her way out of this coiled relationship of her family. nothing could stop her this time.

she ran the sharp blade across her pale skin. and at that very moment the blood grew closer to her pale outer flesh. her skin was ready to burst open with the even and light press of this sharp razor like knife.

with her last ounce of humanity she cried out the words that had tormented her mind the previous few hours “i am human. why can’t you love me?” knowin that everyone was home and knowing that no one would come to her aid. no one ever did. as she pressed a venom like rage sank into her skin as she sawed into the first layer of her pinkened flesh. her body went colder as the blood bubbled up. SLASH ! and that was what broke into the bubble of blood and it curled down her forearm and started to form a small puddle underneither her elbow. her fears melted away along with her pain and for a moment her sweet release hit and a sigh flew across the empty room. and then followed by another scream from the doorway

“what on earth are you doing to yourself?” came the sound of her mother with her haunted eyes starring into this dead young one’s soul. “hurting myself” she bluntly replied as the dizzy high began to flow into her whole body. and when she looked into her mothers eyes she knew she had caused wrong. she had hurt her mother. the one she thought that never really did care thou she claimed she did. as she frowned and looked away she began to cry.

“one solitary tear of this pain is nothing compared to the angiuish that i feel right now.” she tried to explain.

her mother rolled her teary eyes to the back of her head and just walked away.
this is what it feels like………. to be … meaningless.

Categorized as darkness

By dead child

thru my life i have been wondering just who i am. since i was a child i knew i was a bit diffrent. while the girls my own age played with dolls i drew pictures and ran around in the yard acting like a creature (smiles) and now i sit in my darkened room. listen to music and enjoy what ever pleasures i can seem to get from that. i hope you enjoy my work. i am just kinda starting out but i hope one day i will be able to develope into a talented writter. -to all who care enough to read


  1. Hrmn. I’ve never understood the urge to hurt one’s self when the chips were down. It’s like whipping out a knife in a fight and stabbing yourself. Just makes no sense to me. I guess there are lots of people out there who think “You hurt me! So I’m going to hurt myself !”,though. Me,personally,I used to be the kind of person that would think, “You hurt I’m gonna hurt you BACK.”

    These days,I’m the kind of person that just laughs at the punchline…even if I’m the one getting the punch.

  2. This was amazing. I Love this post. There is so much here to relate to. I understand all the feelings involved with the desire to hurt ones-self, from the ones that stem from pain and despiration to the ones that are mere perversion…..a pleasure, if you will. dead child’s efforts in writing this post are not in vain. I’m sure any cutter would agree. I must express my deep respect and I appreciate the feeling involved with your work. One can truly feel the pain and understand why it is titled “meaningless”. It’s sad. Well written. I would love to see more of your work.

Comments are closed.