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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
I keep them in my little box of altoids. on the second shelf in a wooden decoration I made last time I was stuck people broke my soul so I chose to cut the parts they didn't like
‘are you okay?’ they ask, and i reply, ‘really, why are you worried? i swear, i’m fine.’ but i know that i’m really not okay that this is all a mask, a pretty face
Trigger Warning: Self-Harm You see the funny thing about depression is it doesn’t choose who you are you can be rich in a perfect family or can be pour in a terrible one
There's a sickness, in my head it's dark, demented, twisted. i cut. to check. if it, has spread. When my demons come to visit.
Sitting around a new day in town. Start a new year all my friends are here. The look at me and all they see is my cut up hair. "It was my choice!" I strain my voice
Manipulated. Protective, Terrified, Confused. Emotional Abuse.
Punch, punch, punch. Make it a very deep hue, This is something you need to go through. Cut, cut, cut.
He loved not once but twice, And both times it ended badly, Both times he paid the price And his story ends sadly. He was young and untested,
I live with evil creatures in my soul, I have to fight to keep control. They yell and scream to be let out, And then they punish me after every bout.
Whenever I'm pained The scars on my thighs swell up To blood red that's raised.
I wish that I could Learn to bleed every night But soon I'll run out.
I could see that she had a purple cloak over her feelings, Constantly picked on with a wall over her heart. She went upstairs to her room, grabbed her blade, and cuts until she saw decadent red
How am I still alive? Thought of death more than a million times You ask if I’m alright I reply with “yes, I’m fine.” But it's always a lie
While it's easier to cut butter I'd rather slice open my arm Because the pain is like no other and it lessens my alarm. And when the doctor finds the marks, I'll just say I fell in the dark.
It is extremely difficult to break you open. Prying, peeling, pulling, plastic parts. Where to do it. You eagerly tear at my stockings.
Periwinkle walls and streaky white ceiling Windows covered in ice and rust No door, save a string of lightsCandle-cluttered, paper-stacked desk
The stoplight stands red for awhile She suddenly awakens to blood surrounding her body She grabs the blade and goes deeper and deeper She goes so deep that eventually she will drown
They always say If you having nothing nice to say then say nothing at all For why the scars are there My tears are the words that never left my mouth My scars scream for me
She carries three rocks in her pocket One is the peble that lead her to a mountain One is the lump that formed in her throat One is the boulder of silence that sat still in your mouth These rocks are heavy
so when Geoff sings “here’s to this year I never thought I’d make it through” I put my arms around someone else who did make it & swayed along as the clock swung itself past midnight at the end of December
Pain I trip and fall. I feel pain. A crush tells me that he does not like me the same. I feel pain. I get bullied and ostracized on the bus. I feel pain.
no i don't do much damage. no, it doesn't hurt; line after line, and a grave in the dirt. no i don't hate my life, well maybe sometimes. depression's a curse. no that's not a lie.
It's funny how blood makes me nauseous when I used to beg it to drip down my arms, beckoning it with razors and scissors like the red would scream loudly enough
IT GETS BETTER. It seems like such a cliche. Honestly, I know how it sounds, and how those words make you feel: annoyed, devalued, misunderstood. It seems like a lie, it feels impossible,
I walked upstairs feeling bad about myself. But then I remembered the razors on the top shelf. The urge became too powerful, I just had to fulfil. And leave red stains across my wrist,
I have a little blade box, It's hidden by my bed. It hides all the secrets, I can't keep in my head. So if I'm feeling bad, or want to sink into the dew, I grab my little blade box,
the third time she broke the bulletproof glass i knew we needed to talk the same glass gates her heart’s fire alarm
paper gause pen sword red ink poem slash for every wrong answer i kind of want to subtract you
I've felt only sadness all my life I play the violin so I don't feel the strife Its wooden veneer hides my pain And the bow glides across the violins' vein Such a beautiful sound it emanates
Suffering Sharp Stinging Sticky Red Relief Refreshed Regret Repeat
she's barely making it through each day there's some days she just wants to throw her life away but nobody knows that because they dont look behind the mask maybe if they did they would see just how much pain she is in
Dear Mother, You ask if I’m alright, always expecting a simple ‘I’m alright’, or ‘I’m fine’. And that’s what you get, because that’s what you expect and I know that so it’s okay.
(TRIGGER WARNING) To the society that turns broken things into beauty, ripped jeans fresh off the line love novels, heroine saved, get my hopes up like i, too, will be saved
Well, there was this girl, She lives her life as a lie, She continues to explore the world of sin,But instead she feels dead inside As she took the blade And her body swayedShe’s thinking'“WorthlessPatheticUselessPsychoticI was born at the wrong t
I want to be able to forgive my mother. I look at the sky and that is all I see. The blue, lilac, the sunset colors that wash away the day's sins in calm and understanding forgiveness.
She was the canvas, the blade the brush, the blood the paint that gives her a rush. A rush of releif from the opressive thoughts that control her mind, that takes control of her life.
He stands in the cornerShade a shadow of black thoughts in my headDraws weights in my skin drawing out
Carved out of marbleI see a sea of white and blueThese marble masks you wear to alter your facesOut of fears forced on you
My father and I are one in the same; according to some. He hates math, me too, but I believe there are more similarities than not. After all we have been through and got. Medications, prescriptions,
What a whore? What a slut? Oh my God, did she give it up? Drink some bleach Get a rope Didn’t cut deep enough? Next time try your throat Ew it smells like rotten fish
they never saw the real me the one i hid away in my closet buried with the things i hid from society tied her up and taped over her mouth so no one would hear her scream i remember being happy
I am afraid to close my eyes Hearing the emptiness when I awake Feeling any heart pounding against my ribs lungs constricting to leave me breathless. My head is spinning as I choke down a shriek
I sliced my legs and marked my arms found comfort in self-harm. I cut my hips and slit my wrists told myself that I was worthless. Everyday I look down at these scars
Today I am trapped in echoing halls filled with the smokey darkness. Unable to see what good lies await. I can't hear anything besides the calling the voices of creatures and monsters
Cut me open like you do those scars on your wrists. You use to hate the sight of blood, But now the sting and crimson oozing from your wrist has become your favorite addiction.
Inconsequantial misdoings- Unless you know the story. Understanding doesn't bring clarity-- It brings pain. A kiss snuck in the dark, Innocent as anything, Until the heartbreak sets in;
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
Have you ever felt a forest fire in your wrists? Have you ever felt your blood in waves through your veins, boiling, melting your skin?
remember me as being happy. don't look to deep into my depression nowpretend that i was all smiles an joypretend that i am off on a journey, soaring through the clouds
Damn, I just lost my fucking blade againCuts all on my thighs, what a fucked up work of art Broke the pencil sharpener today at schoolRipped the blade out and shoved it in my shoeWent home and locked the bedroom door
The sad part is how easy it would be to just give it all up. To forget the work to forget the dream the sweat the blood the tears. It is a matter of will they say
He’s just a token Of his family’s disappointment A silent reminder of what’s bad All the dark in this world He’s just a token
Drip Drop The blood pools at the wound Drip Drop The wound weeps crimson tears down my leg Drip Drop The pain is intense Drip Drop
I once would take to cutting and mark upon my skin. I know the thoughts haunt me and run over me in surprise. But nothing consumes my mind as much as your smile, and the light behind your eyes.
The direction say, "A Year in Review" But how did a year pass so fast? I look back, to try and remember What happened in this year past. First comes to mind, the bad: Elections, Trump, killings
I was born a princess, there was no shame in me. I was happy and innocent, caring and free. But the years went by, I was just fourteen, A boy met my eye- he was kind, funny, and lean.
she has a universe engraved on her wrist and stars in her eyes with her dreams plastered across her figure she is an infinite expanse a world unexplored
A blade seems friendly It is anything but A manipulating tool And in my head it now haunts. It once kicked away the Numbness That stalked my daily life And locked away Anxiety
I cry silently, Two liquids pool on the floor. I never want to wake up, I Never want to implore The sadness of my Being. The emptiness I am Feeling. "Help!" I cry inaudibly
This feeling has sunk deep into my soul and I’m afraid that my body isn’t mine anymore.24 hours a day, 7 days a week.There’s no time for resting.This feeling makes me wish that the next day to come unfortunately wouldn’t.
It was all one big jump back in time. And those bad people, All the bad they did, And there she was helpless. Doing what she do best. Taking "it"
My skin is wrong It's a baggy jumpsuit Deep sea diving gear A huge space suit Heavy Big And loose It's not me
What is it like to watch me cry? What is it like to wipe away the tears from my eyes? Do they match in color? I can tell you what it is like To watch you cry Every heave of your chest
I'm the lifeless kid, The one sitting in the corner, One wrist stained red, One hand controlling the knife. But no one cares to ask, They all sit there to laugh. Where's the fun in that?
I started it again yesterday, slicing open my skin with a broken razor blade. I hid the broken peice of sharpened metal in my makeup compact, and I cried all day.
If I sat down beside you would you be mad? It seems everything I do dissapoints you. I don't mean to make you cry, I don't mean to make you sad. But every litte thing I do, dissapoints you.
Poetry... One word. One word that holds so many feelings. One word that has saved me in so many ways. One word that has become my source of air. My source of safety. My source of life.
10 days:No blade,no blood. 20 days:I'm tired,I'm sad,I want my blade. 30 days:I can't have my blade,I can't put a sharp object on my skin,am I finally clean?
The act of ignoring someone is: refusing to take notice of or acknowledge them When you're ignored, you learn to live in a world of silence.
What's wrong? Nothing Everything How are you? Good, thank you. I'm numb, you? What ya doin? Writing
written 08/09/16 So much disappointment, So much hate, So much lies, So many things that I'm afraid. I seek to punish, I seek to find pain, I seek to feel alive,
Liar is what I've become, To spare the feelings of everyone. I won't say a word, And you won't notice. I'll keep quiet and smile, And all my lies are worthwhile. I'm sick of turning to you for help,
What sweet relief Found only under The sweet ministrations Of razor’s edge, Noose’s end and Pill bottle bottom.
Just because you cannot see the scars does not mean that they are not there. It does not mean that the thought did not cross my mind like the blade crosses your skin.
It feels like a dream. ... I was a separate person back then. ... I can't see the scars anymore. ... I know I am a different person now. ...
Hope flickers like a small flame Easily put out in the wind of the ghastly night. So I lay on the cold hard floor Staring at the silver moon dancing. Dancing with the fading stars Across the onyx abyss.
Suffering for years before taking every insult in full Sobbing, Screaming From The Pain Finally found a way to send the agony away that awaits me with each passing day
I’m no prodigious poet. In fact I’m quite the odd bird, I’m always delving deeper into ideas others find absurd. As my father crossed oceans I fell onto my knees; anxiety and depression:
The red ink is beautiful, It oozes from dark to light, Brought upon this clean slate With a sharp quill that glints in the moonlight. Gliding along the paper, The sharp quill glows,
I hear the screams I hear the cries But when I try to stop them The voices reply, "Darling dear….” “You've been talking back!"
Good morning, they say And I'll say it back But I still desire unconsciousness Not because I need the rest Although I do But I stay on my feet anyway Aware of my struggle to
You are a good thing. You are the poems that you devour and that you dream of creating. You are every piece of art that you love, You are a piece of art.
can’t tell people anything they think i’m crazy i guess i am but all i need is someone to listen and understand without having to plead
Their coarse edges will never flutter like my nomadic mind— the wayfarer that renders me claustrophobic
It seemed logical at the time. But now I stare at the scars, Demonized by those around me. To them each one is ugly, To them each one is alienating. To them each one is my insanity.
Every time I look to my watch, on my wrist, I see the scars that remind me of my past, The cuts that haunt my dreams, The memories that will forever be there, Reminding me that all I was in life is an failure,
He draws with silver And it comes out red Neat Clean lines Cover most of his body He tries to go deeper Fear of failure
Pain Some people hate it Avoid it heavily Others enjoy it Seek it out I myself am the latter Physical pain I can control
Keep your sleeves down Keep your hood up Keep your voice quiet Keep your silence overwhelming They’re never notice you The see what they want
When you welcome the pain It stops hurting It becomes nice When you cause it yourself You can control it You feel it better
Why is it That i feel most alone Surrounded by people? Why is it I feel most unwanted When people say they love me? Why is it
You can stitch my skin But not my heart You can mend my wounds But not my mind You can heal the surface But not deep down
Author's Note: This was inspired by the song "Knives and Pens" by Black Veil Brides. Hello loneliness, My old friend. It seems that my plight doesn't end, For here we meet, yet again.
There’s a monster in my bed,
I scream I cried I couldn't lift a thing My soul cried out For a God I couldn't see I sucked in a breath And it stung like a b*tch Death was near Pain was it's snitch
“I’m sorry” two words I say too often so much you must be sick of hearing my voice
I'm scared to let people in to let them know that I have a problem to see if they can help depression is a taboo subject especially in a christian home because its not a sickness
It’s not just the emos with their razors. It’s the middle school kids At the top of the bleachers Playing that stupid game Bloody Knuckles. Asking the kids around for anything hard or sharp;
I am beautiful dancing across the stage flawless stealing your heart broken I am broken pink tights hide bandaid's bandaid's hide scars scars scars from cuts across my hips
Have you ever felt like your skin is too tight? like your blood is cold or boiling? have you ever felt like you are suffocating?
Cutting is art. Sometimes, you plan out what you want to see Sometimes, it come out of nowhere.
Mistrust and suspicion rule in my brain They run cross country inside my heart. Loud thumping, mind racing, loosing the control Your breaths quicken and your sight blurs.
One The first is always the hardest. You have to push yourself into it. Cutting into innocence, cutting into your soul. At first it stings but soon it subsides and you crave the lingering feeling of control.
One day I saw a person on the ground and no one stopped to help They walked around and over and past them, Down the street and around the corner until they were gone And this person just sat there crying and bleeding,
Can I swallow some pills to help me swallow the pain? Give me a blade s I can slice away. Teach me to hold things in and I will teach you to deposit small wieghts of trickery into your pockets.
At age 6 the world is full of adventure and fun and you can make friends just because you have a Barbie Jeep and Daddy's always proud of you and one day you're going to be the first person on Mars
The blade puts me back into place. The blade keeps me from going insane. The blade quiets the loudest of screams. The sea rocks the boat, one simple cut, the sea instantly calms. Breathe in, cut, exhale, the blood leaves the cut.
I am a child Who needs toys, to know she’s loved, coloring books Who loves her mom and dad, school, baby dolls Who sees stickers, scraped knees, birthday parties Who fears spiders, heights, time out
I can't stop. You keep warning me that I will never make it to the top. I will never reach my goal,
I wear a Jesus bracelet and a cross around my neck I go to church on sundays I guess I have been saved I wore long sleeves to church about a year ago I smiled and sang for Jesus
crystal clear tears gather in my stinging eyes
I count each slit on my wrist. Each cut reminds me of a painful memory. Water wells up in my eyes, as I cut my skin. This is nothing new to me. I’ve done this many times before.
I always worried that people would notice and ask
People don’t understand Those who are crying to be heard They hear the intelligence in their screams Students in Honor Rolls and Ap’s Waiting to be noticed Waiting to be found
Power On. Channel One: A little girl plays outside, kickball, with her neighbors. They laugh and run. The sky starts to get dark, Curfew. She wants to finish the round; it’s her turn to kick.
A picture painted in red, Crimson sliding down a canvas of snow-white skin. Creating cracks in porcelain as the knife cuts deeper, The bright fluid oozing out from underneath the surface. Dulled senses are awoken,
Every night I hear it call to mefrom across the room,the tintinnabulation of its twin tines enticing me to indulge; threatening, promising to keep its hold on me forever.
I look at people and see, see the truth and power they carry. I want that within me, why can't this be? Words cause pain, you may not know it, but I look at my eyes and all I see is rain,
The urge has come back to give into the attack
How many times have I found myself like this?
No one noticed when she started wearing long sleeves in the summer. No one said a word when she sat quietly at her desk, wiping tears from her eyes. No one reached out to her when she sat alone at an empty lunch table.
Your only love is the blades that cut your skin. I want to help, but don't know how. Don't want to hurt further. So I stay back. Please heal. Please be better.
Fiametta Under the layers of our years, Beneath that wizened crust, sleeps the ageless spirit that once set fire to our eyes.
I smile post Then continue cutting What would mom say? post And finish my drink We pose post You beat in my temples Find inspiration P O S T
To pull against her trust
Trying to keep from drowning under water
EMERGENCY (EYES) 9-21-14, 10:41AM 9-21-14, 1:56PM She's so down and out, she feels like she's in Hell And she can tell you the day she finally fell
** This is a palindromic poem, you read it forwards and then backwards..
Your odor so strong, potent, sweet, and tantalizing, lures me in every time. Your layers appear soft and spongy, your glaze smooth and milky. My mouth waters, My tongue spikes, My lips part,
The cuts got deeper The blades got sharper The lights got darker The voices got quieter The world got away
Humans all participate in a simple task. It makes society easier, if we all wear a mask. Everyone possesing secerets, stories we choose to disguise. All carrying a fake persona, so they'll believe our lies.
Kids are dying Younger and younger By their own hand They're being pushed to the edge And they can't return They feel alone And helpless And have no where to go How many kids have to die
i lost myself in my blanketed tomb scars on my wrist and pills on my tongue couldn't breathe although i tried i tried and tried
I have many scarsI used to say I had more scars than friendsThey were better friends at timesAlways there for meAnd my blade there to provide a quick cold kissReminding me I was alive
Long sleeves in mid summer. Always trying to trick the others. Covering up what The Cat has done, man many people are dumb. Walkin around in a daze. Putting fake smiles on your face,
Every scar is a reason, A reason to hold, A reason to love... Let me hold you in my arms tonight, Showing you that I can see the beauty through the beast,
Truth, or lies? Beautiful eyes Hide the pain. Scars and marks, In the dark Is her world. Dripping red, The girl is dead, And yet she cries.
To cut, to release The anger exploding out like a beast From the pain my family inflicts Becomes physical abrasions on my wrist But my wrist alone does not suffer My left arm now also encounters
No one knows the pain I'm in, so i'll show them No one sees my pain, until they have to sew them
We had walked on opposite sides of the street,
It hit me one night on tumblr a blog i stumbled upon with a bio that sounded a LOT like my old best friend we never fell out our friendship never ended
You cut. You slice. You mangle your arm. You cry. You scream. And pretend it does no harm. The words. The judgment. They replay in your mind.
I sit here in solitude, torn apart.
My mask My hiding My facade This is what I keep from everyone My happy face My pesaceful grace My ever-present humor This is why they never knew My hidden tears
I want answers you tell lies Going against my religion, but not my heart Which is worse? God, why do I anger you I like girls I'm really sorry It wasn't on purpose
I see youWith the razorAnd youWith the lighterI notice your scratchesAnd I hear your silent criesWhile you grip that rope
You know what's beautiful?
It's another day, another ho
they never even noticed the redness in her eyes they never even noticed the signs that everyday she cried they never even noticed because they never even cared
this self mutilation is getting out of hand every night i break down i know i cant stand to stay here much longer, im am beaten and damned to rot away slowly with nothing in hand
Why did you leave me behind? Was is becase of your pain? Or was it because of mine? I wish you could of talked to me, before you left me behind. I miss you daily,
Oh lord I say. Who's going to ever help me with my insecurities? I go through hell every night. The demons..the company I dont need. They're attacking oh father. Say a word for me...
Slice Bittersweet Crimson Curdling, Boiling, Steaming Painful Relief, Excruciating Beauty Oh, Bloody Hell
Nobody had to tell her that the taste of blood was metallic. She figured it out on her own when she slid the blade across her skin and licked at the crimson poison to try and desperately hide the slit of evidence.
Look yonder don’t you see? That crumpled paper lying there, Discarded without care In its wrinkled lines and smeared ink My darkest secrets hidden underneath a tear Folded up and messy over there.
I don't understand. somedays, smiling is easy. and other days it's the hardest thing to do. somedays, I can eat anything I want. and other days I can't even look at food.
You say you know me But you judge by the facade The fake smile and nice disposition The innocence and false confidence
A bouquet of balloons strains against its bonds, dancing in the breeze with its anchor of ground. I imagine releasing them with scissors, one, two, three, more, watching them fly into
She glances around, Then ducks into the bathroom.
You think that you know, you think that you see
She broke his skin to free herself She did it to escape She did it to end the suffering She did it to become another casualty to society She did it to become sane again
Fat ass bitch
1 cut 2 cut 3 cut 4… I drop my metal savior to the floor… My body turns cold and now I cry… Because I know I made a mistake and now I’m dying… My hands turn blue and my face is numb..
This isn't my nightmare, no! My dreams and thoughts and veins ache for you! For release. To see them all again. All over. This isnt my nightmare, no! Cover me in pretty pink lines, baby, I need you now! no! Not you... not you...
I tried to write poetry on my wrist but the blood spread and smeared and now I can't read a thing.
Grey face and blistered skin, Looks like she is at it again. Cold breath and shaky bones, She cuts when she is home alone. Knocks at the door, but she can't hear,
Causing my brain to diminish or maybe my mind really is going or is my mental health truly my own worst enemy.
3 Girls that share a room31 Girls within the programThey all have different problemsThe 3 Girls they share 1...CUTTING.They go to each other for help.But when it comes down to it.
I unfold the paperThat holds the contentsOf just what I need.The blade is cold, smooth and sharp.Back and forth.
enough of your comfortand poetry about innocence my scars are not an invitationfor you to kiss my wrists and how dare you try to make me feellike my wars weren’t realdid not exist
Rub against my skin, no more Scars that don't form From mistakes I made in the bathroom all alone Wanting to be invisible Needing to be seen. Caught with a red line across my wrist and thigh,
Not everything works Like it used to when We were young Disease fills us Disorders rot our minds and We’re never cured Anxiety creeps up Fire that you ignore but Can’t put out
As my hope wears so thin, More lines appear on my skin, I draw them with silver, But then they turn red, Magic maybe? No it's just in my head, There's a monster in me, Trying to get out,
Who do i actually do my poems for? Is it for me, my parents, or the girl next door? You know the one that tries to hide the cuts on her arms. She is physically as well as mentally scarred.
She sits in the corner in the dark She cries when she tries to hide She sits in solitude without a spark
The funny thing about day time, Is that when the light is brightness, The shadows are darkest, The funny thing about depression, Is its absolute starkness, The extreme in difference between happy and sad,
Confused, staring into space looking for something, something to stop the pain Suddenly, there it is, in my hand. Fingers twirl a shiny new blade Slowly,
The scars on my arm drive us farther apart...
Twisted, I missed you, and I hate you so much But my hunger, desire, confirmed by your touch So cold, so sharp, but I love your embrace I loathe that I love our discolored lace
You’d never know the mess she made; she always locked the door behind her The cold made her ever more careful, she could never be too sure What she did in the dark she kept to herself, she wanted to fool them all
You saved 'em from the knife, from the pills, from the booze From slaughtering a beauty and all they had to lose All it took to rescue was a few innocent words A reassuring smile was the most clearly heard
I know what you're thinking I know just how you feel The things in life, they don't seem to be real How can everything end up this way? How can I alleviate my pain?
I just want to give up
I Heard When I Walked Into First Period
She had big dreams for a girl so young
And tonight will be the night remembered as the time I let me get the best of me, I let my memory replay every little word you should have said. I let my passed creep back into me, the shadow of depression consumed me.
beauty we see it everywhere we see it in the eyes of a stranger passing us by on the sidewalk
i want you to see the scars on my skin the wounds youre responsible for i want you to witness my blood an my pain and my nights spent alone on the floor i want you to watch as the sharp razor glides
I broke the wall that holds me in.
One Cut, Two Cut, Three Cut, Four. How bad is a couple more?
People always ask me,why some of my scarsactually spell out words.I tell them that maybe,just maybe,if those words areforever on my bodythey may someday mean
Hearts that cry with tears never seen Arms that bleed, covered up by sleeves Bruises behind a painted smile Lies of unworthiness treated as truth
Burning Stinging Fire It hurts Salty Crashing Waves Spill upon the rainbow Trails of black Snake their way downhill Cool
Her braid falls softly to one side Silently she listens, She’s always been good at that. Arms crossed, Trying to thing, About a better tomorrow; A better today.
Thoughts race time goes by minutes drag she wonders why darker and darker her mind goes what is the outcome? nobody knows all she sees behind hazel eyes
You open your eyes and the world around you seems so beautiful A blue sky with white clouds above during the day A dark purple sky with glittering stars at night There is a force within you that you do not comprehend
she went in her room and shut the door
Battle scars and broken armor That's how I see you A beautiful soul in a ravaged body With nothing there's hope, without hope there's nothing
There is beauty in out pain;
fading with age brownign, blurring suffering every day but continues stirring mindlessly lingering mythodically fingering blades of a razor and quaint gassoline flame.
Have you ever wanted to sit with a razor blade, And write a bloody symphony on your arm? Have you ever felt your trembling heart be swayed, And knew it was a sign of the looming swarm?
Gripping the razor She admires its silver tone Exposing her wrist She examines her canvas She glides the razor Ever so gently Feeling the painful hole in her chest go away
She always looked for a silver lining But never thought it would be a silver razor One side dull The other thin, sharp Admiring it reflecting the single light in her room Gripping it in one hand
Alone in my mind i
I wake up every morning.
They looked, at his face in
Another twenty-four hours My eyes burned another hole in the wall Gunshot wounds from my Civil War Cant get up so I'm learning to crawl My sister and her friend
Tears are streaming down her face, She gasps for air between every sob. Hands shaking, body trembling, Holding a new razor in her hand She glides it over her wrist, Silent as she watches blood slowly seam up.
She was a poet Like no other Her pencil wrote A simple letter If she's rough The paper tears A moan escapes Of self aware A gruesome dream Filled with tears Time is none
"I didn't know anything was wrong."How could you s
"Come little girl, we'll paint the town red."Emoti
Dear Lefty,I'm sorry that I took it out on you,
Too many teens sit on the steps in their house after school with tears on their face and blood on their wrists. They get out of school and they load their home screen on facebook or twitter or tumblr
Eating dog food,
Regardless of your innermost thought,
People judge by class, And they do this without knowing.
I saw your work of art today, And they say behind every artist there is a story, behind every painting, an emotion. So, why do you feel this way? How much pain did it take to make that Masterpiece?
Old friend I see your back my heart was not ready for attack I was happy or a moment I am slow to learn happiness never lasts I don't know why I am surprised It obvious just from my past
In and out the pain is unbearable. In and out the cracks grow bigger and bigger. In and out. Deeper and deeper it goes reaching no where. Pain is restricting.
I don't think they realize how staring at these walls through blooshot eyes, can slowly kill you. You take so much in society that it slowly eats away at your soul. You begin to feel uncomfortabl
Guess you can never tell who's really suicidal It hurts so much you wanna end your cardiac cycle What's the point...smoke a joint or cut yourself with a razor blade point
You would never have thought that what I've done would
We live in a world of the sun. The light casting eternal shadows Down, Down, Down, Until it hides us who aren't brave enough to shine.
Such darkness, her face streaked black. Such lonliness, her breast against thigh.
When we all were in elementary school We were told “drugs are bad” We could recite all their effects We could tell you how they would kill We could tell you what would happen To your abused body
When I stopped taking Valium I started punching walls And I think that’s a good thing I’m Seventeen I’ve been medicated for four years I’m angry and I ought to be
a beautiful victory
Twinkle twinkle world of mine How I hoped you knew what I felt As I walk this lonley path Tears roll down my horrid face While I cut with no regret
You say we can come to you when needed We need you to listen when you’re called But you won’t be there when we’re crying You’re not there for us at all.
SilenceIt's all I long to hear on nights like this
The urges They’re back And they’re out for blood. Why are they here? I don’t understand Why they came back. I feel them like A punch to my gut
The cry Of a wounded animal Is hard to ignore That’s the same Story when it comes To the call of an addiction. It calls to you Until you run To seize it.
Addictions Everybody has one Some call them hobbies Others call them coping mechanisms Some turn to pot Some turn to speed Some turn to heroine Some turn to meth
I'm getting a zero because I didn't do my homework? Oh, and that zero is going to bring my grade down three points? Okay. Yeah, it's my fault for not turning it in. I'm sorry.
I've never known fear like the day I found my sister's cuts. When she was younger, she was abused by her peers. It seems like a girl can't be tall or a little overweight, without being targeted.
Age thirteen, beaten black and violet, she hid from a man who was too often violent. But Daddies aren't supposed to be mean, or leave awful marks for all to see. Daddy promised, "Never again."
She’s far from an innocent For deep in her past Lie memories in waiting, Coming on fast. The shame and the guilt Are too much to take, So she closes her eyes And accepts her fate…
I’m sorry if it’s strange, but I don’t feel right And it’s taken me a while to figure out why. Now it’s hit me, I know why I feel so undone. I’m just not fighting anymore.
42 days. One Month and eleven days. My scars have begun to fade and my smile has retraced itself again. 42 days. Of hard nights where his words echoed and I wanted to bleed
The pretty glass looks like jewels Pick them up, and clench them in your fist Watch the pretty stream Trickle down your arm You know it's wrong, But it's release Visual Representation
Dear Teacher, You are here to help us, Beloved Teacher, You are here to inspire us, Lovely Teacher, All the other students bow down to you, Intelligent Teacher, You used to be my favorite,
Just another dayMy arm is still scarredNo words left to sayNo words could even explainThe depth in this feelingThis craving deep inside Normally I can hold it backBut it's getting even harder to hide.
Sometimes, I strike it low. I hit rock bottom. I fall. And I'll lay there for a minute, shocked by cold concrete. Bare. Skull-shattering. There's a reason I'm here.
I am in the ring,A death corner shaded in blueI am thirsty for a fightMy opponent stares and grins back at meIt has no face, no form, but its still there
It's all cutting into her, the more she tries, the more she bleedsShe feels like she can't choose right from wrongShe can't solve that problemWhy should she try, she feels like she doesn't matter
There are just something you cannot fix Trust me, I know I used to write letters to a girl who had slits on her wrist To say the least, she was sadistic She was sad and had a sickness
The scars on your arms do not mean you gave up they mean you were strong enough to stop the pain to stop the hurt. They mean that you didn't take anyones crap you proved to yourself
Am I real? I see my shadow, I feel my skin, Yet on the inside, I feel numb. Am I real? I cut myself every day, Yet I don’t feel any pain. I’ve been deadened. Am I real?
I am broken. My skin, my soul, my heart, my mind. I am broken. I am wounded. My heart has been stabbed and Is bleeding out of silence Crying hoping someone would see…. But they don’t.
The date is setThis is my decisionAnd even though we just metI need to make this incisionThe day is running outI need to catch that trainBecause I have no doutIt’ll turn off my pain
I want to dieI want to turn away away and say goodbye There is just to much painI can barely stay in my own laneI'm falling apartI hurt in my whole body, especially in my heartI'm going to end it allI may step a little far over the edge and just f
I am numb My arm is a mess There is so much pain The cuts are stained with blood Each cut represents something It's a hidden meaning That people don't understand They just see me Broken
You walk down the halls Feeling scared and alone, Pretending and wishing, In your own zone. You glance around, Hearing laughter, seeing smiles, Thinking to yourelf: My life’s not worthwhile.
Every time she sits there She cies out to whoever will be there Who's there to help her? Who's there to care? She doesn't know Everytime she looks at a blade All her worries seem to fade
When I look back at my high school yearsAnd think about all the tears From when I woke up every dayTo when I bowed my head at night to pray "God please stop the pain""Please stop everyday the words they rain"
Maroon- the color of crimson love, fermented Of December midnights, mingled with the tears of flesh Of sweet agony, smoldering behind hazel eyes Of you and I, trying to escape Desire
I don't like to fight, And I dont like to hurt, The pain you put me through is leaving blood stains on my shirt. I just want my home to be normal, That is all that I ask,
Please Note: There is a trigger warning for this poem. When I was 8 years old I felt you become so cold. Still, I tried to crawl in your lap for warmth
Understand, this is not right.Listen, hear me warn you.This is not a fair fight.You will fail, win, lose.
You say I’m limitless, but I must say, I disagree. You tell me, “You can be anything you want to be.” But again, I must say, “I’d have to disagree.” I’m a limited human being. I can only become “so free.” I can only show bits of pieces of me.
She watches as the blood swells and slides down her hand.She releases her emotions.She cries.The world is over.No emotions.Emotions cost too much.No happiness.Happiness bleeds to pain.
I look in the mirror and what do I see? The beautiful girl God created me to be. But just wait a second, it wasn’t always that way. Rewind 16 years, and that’s not what I would say. As just a little girl, I grew up in a crazy world. My parent
Can anybody hear me? I’m sitting here screaming. Yet nobody hears my plea. Instead, I feel their all trying to flee. Why me? What did I do wrong? I’ve felt like this for so long,
Please Note: There is a trigger warning for this poem. As she covers her arms, she covers her whole world. A world rooted in pain With no gain Of freedom from The Blade.
"Pay attention!" The voice shouts from Across the room. With a start, he Pushes his head up And props himself up On his elbows. His sleeves slip down And he yanks them back
A pressure to burnSpilling over, through my eyesSo I run, for a place to find sanction.And it's dirty, and lonely, and sick, (just like me)this is the perfect placeto find my own goD--
Whats the point, Why should I try To avoid every urge, Why should I not Pick up the blade- Letting it slowly slice The skin that lay beneath it. The wound beginning to bleed-
I love a blank canvas. I love a new page. I love bleeding terror. I love to cry rage. I love how I’m depressed. I love how I die inside. I love having so many, New scars to hide.
Death is opportunity Life is the challenge. Opportunity to relapse Challenge to stay above. Opportunity to give up Challenge to remain on track. I am a survivor.
Hushed voices. Everyone turns. My name still in the air. Spread rumor. Everyone believes. Ignore them. Walk to my seat. Throw myself down. Head on desk. Let it all out.
She doesn't talk anymoreBut it ain't none of my business She covers up bruises and scarsBut it ain't none of my business She's got a broken spiritBut it ain't none of my business
Bleed out your sorrow, bleed out your loneliness, bleed out your anger, bleed out your hate, bleed out your life, and deal with it no more.
My head is swaying I'm getting dizzy I feel the blood rush out from beneath me I see the lights theyre getting dimmer Fading into blackness I know that this is the end How can I fight this
Blood Blood Blood Blood everywhere On the sink on the toilets on my hands in my hair Blood Blood Blood everywhere Am I living or am I dying Drowning in despair Blood Blood Blood Blood everywhere
The saying goes: “The pen is mightier than the sword”. She sat there with pen in hand, and blade in the other. The latter the perpetrator of the scars on her arms,
no, everything's not fine. that much is obvious. the feeling of pain, you enjoy it. the reason why? I don't know. you say it'll all be fine but you don't know that.
Broken and drained, I’m vacant inside.The hurt I couldn’t handle overflowed to a knife
when I crumble at your feet, please don't turn aroundwhat I lost that lonely evening, I have never foundone day I'll make my way onto the killing groundsmy ears are covered by the dark, but I still hear the sounds
Depression… I’m nauseous. Obsession… Over cautious. Learned my lesson… I’ve got this. Left with less and got the obvious. A fracture… it’s painful. Your stature reveals a vain full… Of poison.
Blood is beautiful Going drip, drip, drip, As I watch it go down My leg from my hip. It splatters on the floor It makes no sound, Small little droplets Falling endlessly to the ground.
Pacing the room, like a caged animal Her thoughts are slowly killing her. Too fat. Too loud. Too ugly. Not good enough. A familiar itch pulls her to her closet, A box of razors.
I have a sickening fascination with bruises and cuts because they come from experience, from living, from accidents, from memories and sometimes people create them on purpose
Can't you see me,The pain in my eyes?I'm used to this pain...No body knows the real me. Can you hear my heart cry? I lay in bed at night.I cry myself to sleep,Hoping one day...I won't awake.
Behind her tears There is anger and sorrow.Behind her fake smilethere is lies and fear. She seems to be all alone,No group to accept her.Everyday she sits alone,No one there to talk to.
Tell me. If it's all in my head... Then why is it written all over my body?
The urge passes over her. Her mind is confused.
Many wonder why Self-Inflicted Inhibiting "sigh"I just couldn't deal with it all internal pain- in my weeping mind I couldn't take couldn't cry so I broke a mirror
my skin holds many secretsboth outsiDe and on the ineach scar has a stOrybottled deep withiN.and jusT because a mark is absentdoesn't mean that patch is pureCuts will scar but scratches fade
a daily dose of teasing parents understand it as character building does character building come home with tears? does it come with bruises on your arm? no making it impossible to escape, fighting for every form of exit
She can taste the blood in the corner of her mouth From when she was tripped during a struggle to the door The iron taste to accompany the scarred ford From when she “fell down the stairs” at the home of her “love”
I hid behind pretty words and fake smiles, while behind them i was always lost and confused, you made me feel so safe at your side like i belonged there.. yet so horribly vulnerable i wanted to disapear, so i ran...
On the inside, I'm writhing. Dueling against myself, Fighting, For possession of the blade. My body is too full, bursting, with emotion. With tears. with Pain.
I dont cut , I just pierce, Never to deep, but just enough, The pain was never all that deep,
There is this girl I know She sits in the back of the class, quiet Never thinking and never speaking She is hurt, and she knows why. Everyday is a struggle because of it,
Hour one Spread poinsettias drug to the surface Effervescing their wicked kinship Branching over her body Swarming in depths, Drinking her body She traces herself Bubbling in the bathtub
Try it. When your thoughts are gonna' blow. When you want to cut and see the blood go. Put a pen in hand, and a paper in front. Start to write with your frustration and gut.\Write a poem, write a song.
This is not a suicide note, I may have depression and sometimes it's really hard to get up and live my life, Sometimes I may cry for no reason and wish I could just give up, But this is not a suicide note, Sure,
Crimson blood Trickling down my pale arm like a Small waterfall flows into a sparkling stream: A feeling so great, it's peculiar that one could possess such an enotion.
You beckon to me Like a lighthouse beckons To a ship long lost at sea. You fills these chambered walls with dread, Calling in the darkness, Where few men dare to tread.
I never could understand The need to cut To want to harm your flesh Hot blood rivers If you're already in pain Why would you want To cause more suffering It makes no type of sense
You want the truth? I will confess until every sleeve is stained Every bandage crimson. And you shall never hear my silent screams My actions that speak louder than anything I could ever tell you
Silently screaming for what comes After the red rush Everything will be fine Except for maybe when black scars Meet my friends, my blades, my blades, my Sanity lies in them. Unless there is no –
Blade to skin, my wicked sin My vision dims, the rush begins. Hidden reminders of my pain, Red teardrops stream down like rain. Winding lines across my wrist My flirtation with Deaths kiss.
Beauty is . . .
The first cut stung you promised you'd do it no more but then you hurt again so you did it one more time
Look at these teens as cute as can be The Jock, The Princess, and the Brain all three set the lead perfect little lives With their perfect little friends In their perfect little house just ‘round the bend.
The blade to my wrist I'm alone I saw with the knife back and forth back and forth It hurts but not enough I push harder back and forth back and forth The blood
Dark hair, Dark eyes, Dark soul, A darker mind. Where do i belong in this world of light? My arms.. They hurt from the little pain of each day My mother hurts for she knows my secret...
From a bench I watched them walk, all in a line, the exertion of emotion dripping from each individual pus-filled, black-headed pore, twitching and moaning like dead men with gaping mouths and scarlet tongues
The first time is more of an accident. You didn't plan it, but it happened. You had thought about it. Considered it. But didn't imagine you'd sum up the... what? Courage? Nerve?
Snip. Slice. Hack. Slash. Stab. Words that describe something I used to do Cutting. What people call it What people demonize
That girl who cut deep into her skin, for short outburst of relief. Brown sugar gliding against the sharpness of red. That happiness that the blood reveled seemed like it was being healed.
A silver tongue licks the flesh, And lets out crimson tears. The pain you feel brings you relief, Numbs over all your fears. There's nothing you can do to help, the problems that you face.
Listen. Can you hear them? I said listen. They are every and anywhere that I am. Can you hear them? No. Can you hear them the way that I can?
She sprints into the barren room. Sad tears stream down her face. She wonders, “Can I not just live, And win this lifelong race”
The girl with the glasses, walks home alone. No one to talk to. No one to know. The girl with the glasses, sits at lunch by herself. No one to eat with. No one to be with.
I knew a girl that never wore shorts or short sleeved shirts, she never wore shorts or short sleeved shirts. I mean it’s something that no one really thinks twice about or even once about her.
I barricaded myself in my room again, and I cried and cried, just like yesterday. And the day before that.
She grabbed the razor blade in a hurry as if she was running out of Time Slid it across her pale skin as if she was just in Time Cried out Bled out And as she lay on the cold hard floor She thought
Those with troubled lives, hear me I eloquently speak with experience, I’ll explain – You’ll see For I know that every waking hour feels like years in your life
The door is shut again I'm the one that shut it. They are the ones that started it How can you live in a home like this? I can't, so I shut the door.
It’s like a private battle Going on inside my head My mind says, “Use the razor” My heart says, “Live instead”
I pull the blade across my skin How much longer will these voices win? Deeper and deeper, I see blood appear How much more damage can I do here? They think I’m crazy, they think I’m mad
She paints a pretty picture But the story has a twist Her paintbrush is a razor And her canvas is her wrist She paints her pretty picture In a color that's blood red While using her sharp paintbrush
I want to slice myself and bleed out It’s all I can ever think about I need release, not talking to pros This pain inside, nobody knows And yet I write this poem instead Trying to get it all out of my head
“You’re ruining your arms,” you say “Just think about your wedding day!” But why be beautiful, why be whole When I can cut myself and sell my soul I prefer to hurt myself for happiness
I never wanna be a statistic.
All alone in her room. All alone in the world. The crying doesn't stop. Never does hate. How can a little piece of metal help you to hate yourself so much? It cuts like butter, It hurts like a knife.