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



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: 


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