At Least

Copyright, WiltedRose

At least she knew.
At least she did.
The only one.
To care for a kid.

She took me in.
She helped me through.
Feelings of hurt.
Not knowing who.

And when I cut.
She realised.
I was special.
But through her eyes.

And when others stared.
Pointed and sniggered.
The girl that helped me.
Had me figured.

She felt my pain.
She felt my heart.
She felt the cold in me.
She felt the dark.

At least she knew.
At least she did.
She was my angel.
She cared for me, the kid.

What Lead to This?

Copyright, WiltedRose

Outside is everything to some
No one likes me, but how come?
Inside means nothing to those
Don’t know how to cope with a wilted rose.

Beneathe my skin my blood runs cold.
Beneathe my shirt my scars are old.
Inside my heart is pains and fear.
I just hesitate when you are near.

The pictures on my wrists.
Those pictures with painful twists.
No paint is used, no work of art.
Just a feeling, left in the dark.

For when the blade touches my skin.
And when the blade slowly goes in.
My blood runs red across my arm.
And all these feelings, lead to self harm.


Copyright WiltedRose

As I dragged the glass.
I felt atlast, relief.
And slowly I watched.
As the blood from within me, seeped.

And As a dasiy chain goes on.
So did my pain
And as they day went on
My blood began to drain

And now what? I ask
Where from here?
A life full of torment?
A life full of fear?

Bright light shon on my scars.
An angel from the skies? No.
A friend. My saviour.
The end.


Permanent location: