Creative Writing

Copyright, Kate

The words
I’m trying to scream out
When I can’t
Summon the strength
To whisper
Is written in scarlet letters
Across my body
Decipher them
And understand


Copyright, Kate

I’m so sorry
I didn’t want you to know
Or to find out this way
I promise I won’t do it again
I’ll try not to just for you

And you took that promise
And thought it too be true
That she would stop
Just for you

But what you didn’t know
Is that she couldn’t stop
And her bathroom looks like
A butcher shop

She knew that you loved her
When she pulled the blade across her wrist
She knew how upset you would be
But she couldn’t seem to resist

She called you on the phone
And what she told you thru her tears
That she had broke her promise
And confirmed all your fears

She told you were she was
Surrounded in her blood
But she didn’t want you to come
And see the crimson flood.

You drove to her house
And broke down her bathroom door
You called 911 when you saw
Her barely breathing on the floor

Sweetheart please don’t leave me
Please hang on until help arrives
Then you think out loud
God I hope she survives

Baby I’m so sorry
She says as she gasps for air
Please forgive me baby
The pain was too much to bear

The doctor at the hospital tells you
She’ll live, everything will be alright
You’re lucky that you found her
She tried to end everything tonight.

You stay by her side
You watch her sleep
And wonder what made her
Cut so deep

When she opens her eyes
You break down and cry
You tell her how much you love her
And how you were afraid she’d die

She starts to cry and says thru tears
I promised you I could handle things
But I didn’t want to see
What the future brings

You say you love her again,
You hope you haven’t caused any harm
But you don’t need to ask her
Because she has ‘I love you’ carved on her arm


Copyright, Kate

red tears drenching white flowing sleeves
-you know it makes for a good picture-
sometimes the colorlessliquid sort…sometimes
work better than the first
laughter can heal more pain than you’d imagine
more than you’d want to, i think.


Copyright, Kate

cold, metalic
your tounge pierces my flesh
i am a pin cushion
come stab me with your cruel words
i welcome this destrution
come make me bleed and weep
contrain me
pin me down with empty promises
i find my answers beneath the skin
and its there i feel you crawling


Copyright, Kate

and now i’m scar(r)ed
what will he do to me?
i can hardly breathe, he holds me and says it will be ok
can i believe him?
i’d waited so long and wanted so much

i’m scar(r)ed, crying my red tears
when will this end?
i know there’ll be many before this is done and over.
do i want it to?


Copyright, Kate

once more
-perhaps they won’t notice-
one more red (bleeding line)
-they always do-
i know they do/ hear what they
want (doesn’t matter about me)
to think about it about me
i do it anyway)
is the
best colour.


Copyright, Kate

sometimes it isn’t so bad
because… you know things happen
good things
peppermint sticks
silly boys and speed bumps
spinning worry rings and volleyball
silly things that do make me happy for awhile
so happy that i wish to cry bright red tears

Poetic Demise

Copyright, Kate

Last night I cut my skin
To see my blood
To see if I was dead within
A rose on my porcelain skin
Blooming out from beneath the cut
I watched it with intrigue
So radiantly red
I felt no pain as the dull blade cut my skin
I felt nothing
I just saw each line I cut
Watched each drop of blood form around each cut
Scarlet as a rose
I watched each drop grow
The sound was cut from my ears and mouth
I Felt Nothing, Heard Nothing, Said Nothing
I only saw the blood
I watched as it slowly formed a word
I couldn’t make out the letters
They were blurred by my Tears
I knew soon I would die
As I watched the blood pour from the word on my arm
I felt myself becoming a Tragedy
A Dead Soul bleeding
Bleeding words on the floor
Writing my Poetic Death
From the rose on my skin
From the word on my arm
I lifted my hand
To touch the word I cut
I realized my Poetic Demise
As I realized the word on my arm
The word my heart was bleeding was…


Copyright, Kate

This is what I do it for. Cutting without blood isnt worth it. I live for the blood.Its like.. I can see everything just flowing in my blood, pain, anger, anything! It makes me smile. Success! Blood means success… Seeing that rich dark red blood Red… dark rich red blood. Black blood! Its success to me.

Anger and Rage

Copyright, Kate

I wrote this about the words i carved into my right arm, carving/cutting… got more blood

Carved into my skin is anger and rage. I let it lose on myself anger and rage. better on my then you. Carved for all to see… my anger and rage.

A True Cutter

Copyright, Kate

I count my scars… 99.. 100… 175…

Not enough! Ive failed as a cutter. In my own mind anyway… what is a good number? Anything more then mine.

I need more to show im true, I AM A CUTTER. Ha not with only 175 scars… show this girl to the door! shes not true. I cut and I cut more is good. more to belong. more the better… I must show I am true

Who to show? How many to prove? Dont stop till I know.

Sit and Stare

Copyright, Kate

I sit and stare at the shiny metal blade, I cant resist I pick it up and lightly run it back and forth over my skin settling on a new piece of skin a new piece of paper to begin my art, my painting. I can feel the cold metal on my skin. I can feel the power I have, a cure, my cure. I crave it I need it, I want it! I run the smooth blade over and down in to my skin… dark red blood follows my trail.


Copyright, Kate

At times… all I can do is cry
when that isnt enough I cut
once tears… now blood
tears of blood?
Just the same only I create pain
make pain to rid pain?
whatever works I guess


Copyright, Kate

My eyes try to cry,
But there are no tears,
My ears try to hear,
But there is no sound,
My mouth trys to scream,
But there are no words,
My feet try to run,
But there is no path,
My nrain trys to think,
But there are no thoughts,
My friends try to help,
But there is no help,
The knife trys to cut,
But there is no blodd,
My nerves try to feel,
and there is only pain.

Everytime I wake up,
I wish i were gone,
Everytime I hate,
I pray it’s a mistake,
everytime the skin cracks,
to reveal the blood,
I cry within my heart,
because I know,
That the pulsing red does not,
represent the aching,
rot of death within my soul.


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