For Those Suicidal Kids..

Cutting Poem

For Those Suicidal Kids

Poem #11
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Cutting Poem

I feel so numb.

I rush to my room.

The frantic thoughts in my head start to resume.

I rush to my desk and look all around.

Until a rusty razor is what I have found.

I grab it with one hand and take a seat in my bed.

As I lift up my sleeve to reveal what lays ahead.

Pale white lines that make creases in my skin.

They're there to remind me that I'll never win.

I want to feel something so right on my arm.

To the vicious temptations of committing self-harm.

First I imagine the pain I will feel.

And I press down the razor to make it more red.

I imagine the red liquid that will flow from my vein.

And I wonder of I'm truly going insane.

I close my eyes tightand clench my fist.

As I drag my old razor across the skin of my wrist.

As raging pain I remember all too well.

As I bite back my lip to keep back a yell.

I open my eyes and look down in dismay.

As the blood keeps on running without delay.

I know I'm in pain but at least I feel.

And besides in time its going to be real.

I go to the bathroom and try my best.

To patch up my wound and clean up the mess.

I rinse off the blade and retune. It to its place.

So if I need it again its there just in case.

I lay in my bed and take one more glance at my arm.

Just another day falling victim to self-harm.

- ͠S͠υ͠ι͠c͠ι͠∂͠α͠ℓ ͠L͠σ͠ν͠є