You know my name not my story.
I cut because I hurt.
You see my face not my pain.
I cut because they left.
You see my cuts not my S-C-A-R-S, scars...
You can read my lips not my mind.
I cut because I am forced to harbor a smile that is not mine.
Not happy? Here's some pills to numb you until you don't remember what sad was. I am smiling so that my face is frozen in this numb lie. They repeat the words "help" and "need" when I tell them this. I should've kept my face in that numb, cold lie. "Stop" I tell them. "Let me finish telling you what you need to...but are afraid to hear"
You see my smile...not the smeared mascara, not the tears.
I cut because they stare, I cut because they whisper, I cut because they care.
You see me, not ME at 3am after another excruciatingly exhausting day.
I cut because I know it's better to do it now so maybe later it wont be deeper.
I broke the promise and now I break it even more.
Simple: to put it down will drive me even father to feel my old acquaintance.
That's what it is to me.
On my wrist and my thighs occasionally.
Comforting. Like a hug to squeeze away the pain and a hand to wipe away my tears that mix with the blood to stain my bedsheets. Or, as occasionally as my thighs, the bathroom floor.
Stinging. After the comfort comes the emptiness. More tears and the temporary hand and hug are gone.
Help...
I severed too deep.
Help...
Bleeding too much.
Help...
I cut.
Just because.
YOU ARE READING
Collection
PoetryCollectin of random poems i write or quotes that inspired me... Really whatever i feel you guys need to hear. Some are depressing and others are bitter. Most of these come straight from my poetry book I keep on me at all times. These poems are my so...
