Confessions Of A Cutter Poem by Muriel Ruth Emerson

This blade glides across my wrist
Back and forth
Back and forth
Blood spoiling onto the rough carpet beneath me
Will today be the day I get the courage
The courage to end the misery
That some call my life
The courage not to go back and forth
But up and down
Watch more blood
Blue lifeless blood spill from my icy veins
That icy veins lead to a cold heart
But if I am so cold where did this blood spill from?
Maybe once it left my vein it got warmer
Only to be rushed by gravity to a lifeless floor
That will show it no more mercy than I will
I tell myself I am ashamed of what I am doing
This is my last time
But there is no last time
It is an addiction
Once you start it is hard to stop
All you think about is cutting
That feeling of release
That you can't seem to find in anything else
For that moment all your troubles
All your worries are spilling out of your body onto the floor
You lie to everyone around you telling them I can stop whenever I want
But knowing you will never stop
You hope that tomorrow you won't wake up from this nightmare
You like the feel of this cold blood
These are the confessions of a true cutter
But that is not who I want to be anymore
But just like any real cutter I don't know how to stop