Why Is It When I See My Own Flesh And Blood That I Feel Better? I Mean I Hate Myself. Poem by Gabriella Mantone

Crying on the stairway, she tumbled to a fall, all her life was shatters, and she‘s ready to end it all, she could hear the screaming, and everything she held, cause on her way to math class she somehow lost herself


She felt herself breathe, as she sliced it through her skin, she didn’t even know this was how her ending would begin, she felt relief, she saw the blood, she knew this was the outburst of all the wrong shed done, so take this beating heart, and cut this life apart, she took the wrong way down, now she’s bleeding on the ground.


Like a scar of weakness, she pulled her sleeve down tight, this numb feeling she took on, finally felt more right, the faces in the hallway, and the voices of her home, she couldn’t figure if she liked this feeling to be alone, but worries start to whisper and she cant hold her wits, so she looks at what she’s done, bringing her knife to wrist.


She felt herself breathe, as she sliced it through her skin, she didn’t even know this was how her ending would begin, she felt relief, she saw the blood, she knew this was the outburst of all the wrong shed done, so take this beating heart, and cut this life apart, she took the wrong way down, now she’s bleeding on the ground.


And no one should know this secret, cause she’s afraid they wouldn’t care, for all the sin that she has made, punishment is what seems fair, kiss goodbye her knowledge, it all goes down the drain, cause the cuts she wears like t shirts, prove that she’s insane.