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Literature Text
Please stop.
Those scars on your arms,
I hate them.
They reflect so much pain.
I love you.
You're not alone.
Please.
Heal.
I want to do it
But I'm too scared,
Too paranoid.
Does that make me worse
Than just being able to do it?
Is my anxiety too much?
I can't feel much.
That's why my fingers and lips
Always bleed,
Always hurt,
But there's no scars.
Am I a fake?
Please.
Get better.
Please.
So I can stop
Feeling guilty.
Please.
So that I can stop
Wanting to do it myself.
Please.
Stop hurting yourself.
It reminds me of
Everything bad.
It hurts me.
Please...
Those scars on your arms,
I hate them.
They reflect so much pain.
I love you.
You're not alone.
Please.
Heal.
I want to do it
But I'm too scared,
Too paranoid.
Does that make me worse
Than just being able to do it?
Is my anxiety too much?
I can't feel much.
That's why my fingers and lips
Always bleed,
Always hurt,
But there's no scars.
Am I a fake?
Please.
Get better.
Please.
So I can stop
Feeling guilty.
Please.
So that I can stop
Wanting to do it myself.
Please.
Stop hurting yourself.
It reminds me of
Everything bad.
It hurts me.
Please...
Literature
Cut
The razor that cuts my skin
The blood that falls into a silver tin
When i feel the pain
The whole world seems sane
The blood that paints a gruesome picture
The razor my pen
My blood the ink
The paper my soul
Nobody must see this bloody scene
My wrists sliced open
The blood never ceases to stop seeping out of the wound
It will never stop
For i will never die
After all in my writing, i am immortal
Literature
CUT
You look for an escape
but there's nowhere to hide.
You need to get away
from this feeling inside.
The madness around you
has penetrated your soul.
You cry out. You long for
your times of old.
You need something
to end this misery.
You see the blade.
You need to bleed.
You hold it in your hand.
Just one single blow
can end it all now.
You decide to go.
You feel the sharp slice
accross your vein.
You see the blood
but you don't feel pain.
You find the happiness
that you once loved,
but you can never grasp it
once you've been
CUT
Literature
If...
If all the world knew our pain
we might never have suffered
If all our friends helped us through
we might never h
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ack, kinda confusing >.< i tried to compare what i do to myself to what my friend does. didnt turn out too well. sigh...
100 theme challenge
permission before use.
Kay thanks
100 theme challenge
permission before use.
Kay thanks
© 2011 - 2024 BethanyyJoelle
Comments42
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This is a great poem. I was a cutter and people always wanted me to stop. I stopped but sometimes I really just want to start all over again with the cutting but is I look at the scars on my arms it reminds me of all the stuff I want to forget.