Cutting's like a drug
You get hooked so fast
You hide yourself from the world
Not daring to face it
Scared of what you’ll see
You're hiding the scars
By long sleeves and fake smiles
Dreading confrontation
Dieing all the while
Slipping thru your skin
The blade takes your sorrows
Bleeding out your troubles
One by one
Till they’re gone
You should feel guilty
For being like this
This sick demented animal
With this twisted mind
But you’re void of feeling
Depression, happiness,
Sorrow and hope
These mean nothing
Just more words
Written at random
You’re empty, not feeling
Living in a daze
Pain is beyond you
Only your addiction remains
Your addiction to death
Dear Hannah, From one self-mulitator to another it will get better with time and a lot of therapy and journaling. Writing is a much better outlet than cutting and leaving scars forever. I know it is hard but tell yourself that cutting 'Is Not An Option' and do something else like go for a walk, journal, take a hot bath. Everyday that you don't think about cutting reward yourself with some alone time or something you like to do. Than after a wee, than a month, than a year. It will get better. I will keep you in my prayers. Write me if you need to talk lesllipm@aol.com.
Moving, powerful, sad and true. That was a great poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Again, really good poem. I love your poems. They are really good. I can really relate to them. Keep writing.