Anger

It gave me a knife and told me to stab.

A stab for every pain that I had ever had

A stab for the way they had made me feel.

I would relieve my hurt very simply, it was all so clear.

I did so gladly 

With fury and spite

I stabbed and I stabbed 

With all my damn might. 

I cut and I flayed and I sliced and I snipped.

When I was done

Blood had spilled everywhere:

It just drip

drip

dripped.

Running off the table and onto the floor

Out of the doorway; from there I knew nothing more.

It ran away and I wondered why

Only when I drew back the covers did I understand:

My own leg lay there bleeding and limp 

Massacred by my own hand.

Hatred and spite made

Flesh wounds that cut deep into my soul.

I picked up a needle and attempted to make myself whole

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741