Suicide Scars Poem by teresa johnson
Suicide Scars
i look at myself in the mirror wondering.
wondering what happend to the girl i used to be.
wondering why there are scars on my wrist.
why i did this to myself.
then i think back to when my whole world was crashing down.
i seem to realize that these scars are suicide scars.
i start to cry to the fact that i will have these scars for a life time.
i grab my razor put it up to my wrist.
and i start to cut.
i start to cut them suicide cuts all over again.
i cant stop.
but i guess that this will be me forever.
makeing them ugly suicide scars.
You've never felt that way then, James AKA Bluesman. I hope you never do, because someone might knock you down by judging too much. You can't judge from where your standing tall unless you've been there. Depression is a serious illness, an illness that made my brother kill himself, and I'm not mad at him-only people like you for treating him like he could fix himself. He was worth far more than people like you. You make me sick, not the depressed faces as you put it!
this is so sad...the girl I feel in love with is a cutter...and I feel cut whenever she cuts.
i made this poem just wanted to let all you i dont really cut myself! ! duh well cya
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 9:52:40 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Marie - Did you only know of your brother's illness after his death? Chele