cutting self harm

Learn more about other poetry terms

I long to cut holes in my wrist, But those holes turn to eyes And the eyes see into me.  They stare back uncaring 
“You’re not alone.
You see the holes carved into my skin You say what happened “Itchy bug bites”  no no that’s not what it is You see the lines etched deep in my flesh  You ask again  “Playing with my cat” no no no
When I was a kidI always had this weird obsession with band-aidsThey're as close as I could get to the stickersMy parents wouldn't buy me
Emotions Run wild inside my mind My tiny brain, Suffering, Stranded. Alone. I see it, the light It approaches
Just one, to try it,Just one, maybe I'll feel better,Just one, to punish myself,Just one, so someone will notice.
As i watch the tears fall from my sister's eyes as she is dragged by her hair   Her whimpers as her face gets scraped on the concrete.  
People have scars In all sorts of places Like secret road maps of their personal histories Diagrams of all their wounds Most of our wounds heal leaving nothing behind but a memory But some of them don't
Dear Mr. Palise,  
Cut
*snap* Severed ends of a good mood *snip* They walk out of sight and out of life *rip* Your carefully assembled resolve dissolves
I was twelve when I first started doing it, You could blame it on puberty or a teenagers strong hormones,   But as I feel each slit, I can remember the knife I used, The room I was in,
Subscribe to cutting self harm