Copyright, Brienna

Please don’t judge me for wanting to bleed,
I just happen to feel that special need,
To drag the razor across my precious white skin.
I laugh, I cry, I am insane,
With this little game.
This game called life, is making me lose.
I can not seem to pick and choose,
Between myself and what others want.
I let the blood trickle down,
My smile so lost is now that little frown.
I shake my head in disbelief,
At the horrible thing I’ve done.
My face, I turn, for it is to be shuned.
Taking the bandages I wound them up.
I’ve cut with no reason why.
I’ve cut myself without a good lie.
Sighing, I stand back up and turn around.
Knowing that this time I’ve cut and made it true,
Knowing this time I’ve cut and made it through…

A Talk with Myself

Copyright, Brienna

I had a talk with myself today,
Just to see what I had to say.
I said I’m tired, I said I’m weak,
I said it loud although I could hardly speak.
My thoughts came out in a silent hush,
Throughout my mind my words did rush.
Along with the most silent cry,
That tries to hide the urge to die.
I spoke of a silence no longer there,
And how it seems like no one cares.
A lingering thought filled my head,
Of the tomarrow I did dread.
And how I spoke of a last hope,
As if I had no way to cope.
A lost tomarrow in all my dreams,
I said it loud enough although it seems…
I had a talk with myself today,
But no one heard what I had to say.


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