'self harm
Learn more about other poetry terms
Your skin is like a magnet
You are bound to get scars
Whether they are on purpose
Or by accident
When it is on purpose
i find it beautifully sombering
when i see someone else with self harm
i connect with them knowing what it's like
i feel for them
i feel with them
i hate that i find it beautiful
Can't you see it on my face,The tears etched into my skin from nights I cried myself to sleep,My pale skin that's turning white from not eating, Can't you see it in my eyes,All the tears I've shed,
Can't you see it on my face,The tears etched into my skin from nights I cried myself to sleep,My pale skin that's turning white from not eating,
My body is resting, but I am not.
My brain is awake, and my heart is cracking.
The anger courses through my veins quickly.
I want to bash my head in.
just one more
one more line
down my scarred forearm
one more prayer
that god will let me go
one more drop of blood
leaking onto the tile flooring
one more sigh of relief
the pain reminds me of what i've done
stinging
burning
lashing
all the way up my forearms and my thighs
so i can feel it for days on end
the dark red blood that stains the carpet
i feel like a zombie sometimes.
not alive but not dead
my skin rotting in different places
i'm brain dead and my eyes are glassy
parts of me tearing and ripping
a poem about selfharm
Is there more i ask?
Is the more for me to give?
More for me to offer,
Or should i resist,
I thought I was only using it to cope,
Until I tried to stop.
Watching the sharp blades
as they whisper sweet songs to ugly skin
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sor
The silence was loud
Like the heart that was once pounding
With blood surrounding
Once filled with life
But is weeping in sorrow
There’s no tomorrow
The silence was loud
Blades on the ground
it use to be purple
i loved to draw purple with on a canvis
one day i decided to try silver
i drew silver on an different kind of canvis
i found it so beutiful when the silver would make red
it use to be purple
i loved to draw purple with on a canvis
one day i decided to try silver
i drew silver on an different kind of canvis
i found it so beutiful when the silver would make red
You see Her walking in the hall
Eyes that sparkle blue
But something isn't right
Her smile seems bright
But it isn’t true
Sunshine gleams
and warms my scar covered arms,
and my scar covered insides.
The soothing warm breeze leaves gentle kisses
on my broken body,
and my broken heart.
It's gonna get better
The words are spoken to me
So often
That they have developed a rhythmic tone
Its gonna get better
The roses today must be painted in white
Red’s getting ready for this evening
Doctor’s may make their incisions without morphine
Pain reserved a seat at my party
then it hits me like a truck
when my friends see my thighs
and really focus
will they notice the scars
it’s weird to see the word staring back at me
depression
it brings back memories
when i was crying for air
How did I spend so long dreaming
Thinking
I was worthy of...love
What disease caused this vile idea to spread in my head that I was anything but unwanted
look around and ask yourself,Is the person next to me sad?Could they be experiencing something negative?I’m so tired of the taboo around not feeling happy,I’m tired of only seeing people nod or sigh,
Those eyes
Those beautiful, blue-green eyes.
Smiling, laughing, then
Nothing at all.
At least not towards myself.
A glance,
A wave,
A passing infatuation,
D i s s i p a t i n g
Born of a minority race
Adorned of comments and nitpicking
You grow a thick skin when subjected to
Adolescent Bullying
Spitting image of an Abuser
Mother couldn’t take it
*Before you read this poem I wanted to add a trigger warning. This poem is about self-harming. If things like that bother you then do not read this poem.*
I sat there and stared
How could this happen?
I saw your scars today,
It took my breath away.
A choke caught in my throat.
Something so precious
Contained inflicted wounds.
The urge is overwhelming,My body and mind wants it so badBut the scars cannot be hiddenIt is an addiction.
The first time my wrist bled i was 10
Shards of broken glass
Tears on my bed
Blood on my peers the next day
My best friend saw and showed me hers
At the age of 5, I was taught what was acceptable as a female and what wasn't
Acceptable: apologizing, not acceptable: talking back
Mija cierra tus piernas, Close your legs! I'm sorry ma
Little did you know
I didn't sleep well last night,
cause I told you it was fine.
Truth be told,
it was alittle past 3 a.m
when I finally collapsed on my
tear soaked pillowcase
When did the cost of living,
Become so expensive.
Working two full-time jobs,
Minnimum wage,
Still cant afford to eat.
The lampshade,
Needs to be dusted again,
And so does the vase,
One is gentle, just to start,
Two's intent's to make a mark.
Three's for "ugly" and for "rude",
And for good measure, four is, too.
Five is for the lies I said,
Six is for who's in my bed.
