Psyke.org

Christy

Art

Copyright, Christy

make it show
this pain you feel
unless you can see it,
it can’t be real

slice open your skin
put cigarettes out on your arm
this pain won’t be real
unless there is evidence of harm

now it’s physical
this pain has changed
the scars on your skin
have it rearranged

you write now
you describe the rain
you see beauty everywhere
even in pain

you draw with a razor
you decorate with blood
an artist of your pain
you’re getting quite good

you’ve danced with the idea
ending it all
just cut a little deeper
a little harder, is all

you live for the pain
so you know you won’t do it
but you will cut harder,
just a little bit…

Story of a Girl

Copyright, Christy

you think you see a girl
but you don’t see the real her

you think you see her smile
but you don’t see the tears she hides behind it

you think you hear her laugh
but you don’t hear the screams she holds inside

when the day ends she goes home
the real her comes out

when she’s at home
the tears she hid roll down

when she’s alone
the screams she held in burst out

when she’s home
you can see how she really feels

but a new day comes
she puts on her mask

once more she’s happy
once more she smiles

once more she laughs
once more she fakes it

it’s all a lie
it’s all a big fašade

no one knows
what it’s like to be her

no one can know
what it’s like to be her

no one cares to know
what it’s like to be her

when she’s around her friends
she’s always happy, never down

but when she’s alone
she’s always down, never happy

she sits on her bed
and thinks to herself

‘one day they’ll all see
what it’s like to be me

and they’ll never believe
that that’s how i felt

and they’ll never see
why i did this to me’

she takes the razor
and slices her arm

the blood flows out
in little small beads

and she feels better
she can go on

she goes back to school
no one notices

except one “what happened?”
“my cat” and she thinks

‘that was easy
i can do it again’

so she goes home
and slices some more

and so the story goes.

three years pass
her arms are full of scars

and still

you think you see a girl
but you don’t see the real her

you think you see her smile
but you don’t see the tears she hides behind it

you think you hear her laugh
but you don’t hear the screams she holds inside

you think you see her happy
but you don’t see how she really feels

three years of scars
they’ll never fade

they may have felt good
but did nothing in the end

nothing is different.

 

Permanent location: http://www.psyke.org/poetry/c/christy