My poems

Cutting

I cried,

Trembling hands holding the blade,

I have the words replaying over and over in my head,

Your useless,

Unwanted,

Unloved,

The pain from my heart,

And my head,

And my stomach growls,

I ignore them all.

I watched as my hands move towards my wrist,

And I slice it,

And I cry,

I watch as it bleeds,

Most people don't care that they cut,

They do it to recover,

To release,

But I regret it,

I cry realising,

I can never take back that moment,

So let's do it again,

Let's let all this pain and anger out,

And maybe one day,

I will die.

Releasing me from this place,

I call home.

I will be free.