ping, ping my elastic band
Watch it tremble in my hand
Feel the substitute of my pain
Yet somehow it’s not quite the same
See the marks of pen scratched red
You can’t fool the voices in my head
The scars aren’t real, they won’t last long
Won’t show my failed attempts to be strong
Rub the ice-cubes on my arm
Trying so hard not to self-harm
Yet there will come a time I’ll fail and then
the blade will cross my arm again
My mum saw this poem and said ‘we won’t talk about this one’. I guess she just doesn’t get it.
watch the drops of blood
see the scars on my arms
ashamed, i live with the result
of my self inflicted harm
i don’t know how to stop doing this
i don’t know what to do
i need someones help to make me stop
someone to help me through
the water washes away the blood
the blood washes away my pain
but i have to hide the permanent marks
i have to live with the shame
i can’t describe the depression
i can’t explain what comes over me
but the results of my actions
is something i don’t want you to see
i’m going to stop hurting myself
i reall am trying
but it’s getting harder everyday
to carry on smiling
no one else understands
there’s no where i can turn
and the strong temptation inside of me
still continues to burn
I’m shameful and disgusted
but no one else can see
I don’t want anyone to hurt because of my weakness
so i take it out on me
when i take the first cut
i leave the pain behind
no rational thought can get through
when im in this state of mind
this time i’m going down a different path
i’m using a different door
i promise you i’m trying
not to hurt myself anymore
Watch me hang myself from the rafters
Or burry myself deep into the mud
Carve a star into my cheek
Suffocate in my own blood
I’ll guzzle down these pills so sweet
Just so I can try to rest
Even when I try my hardest
I always end up second best
Look at me with a knife in my hand
I slice away the fucking pain
Listen to the voices like mist
All my memories go down the bathroom drain
I look into my bedroom mirror
Can you guess what I see?
I don’t see anything
But the ghost of me
It is the dangerours game of the cutter.
A game that I happen to play.
This is the game that comes with no rules, and nobody plays but you.
They have seen the game’s result, and now they need answers to the questions they are asking.
I have no anwers, because I’m searching for them.
They now treat me like I have become broken.
A broken little girl who needs all of their help.
I don’t need your help.
Please just don’t ask because I have no reason.
Please help when I come to you, if that happens then it will happen
They know everything about me why do they need to know this too?
i take a knife
and cut it deep,
i watch the blood swirl
around my feet.
feeling faint got
to lie down,
in my own blood i’ll
now the stars i
i have to curl up and go
never before have i gone
usually i get a