Poetic Whispers

Is this poetic?

TRIGGER WARNING: The following poem regards suicide, cutting, and mental illness. proceed with caution if such topics are triggering to you.

'Scars are beautiful'

'Suicide is an angel's way of returning home'

Is this poetic to you?

Am I walking poetry for you?

Are the white jagged lines running down my thighs pretty

Are the discolored areas of flesh puffing out on my wrists beautiful

Tell me what makes this poetic

Tell me why this is beautiful to society

Tell me what makes you think that sadness is glamorous

That mental disorders are the new trend

Are the crimson pools dripping from my wrists artistic

Should I take a picture and slap on the caption

"Society did this"

Should I tell you that it's worth it

Because the pain gives me a source to write from

That making deep, powerful poems

Overpowers the screams vibrating in my ears

That the pounding in my head is worth it

Because this is poetic

Every time someone comes near me I flinch

Every time they glance at my thighs I tug at my shorts

Every time you glance at my naked wrists

My mind distorts what is there

I see the cuts as ten times bigger than they are

I see the blood as if it is freshly flowing out

I see you staring and the questions waiting

Your lips curling and your brows knitting together

I see it

I see your stares

I see the questioning looks

Honey but I know not a damned person will dare say a thing

'It's not my problem'

'Let her sort it out'

And if you asked, what could you do?

You know you can't save me

I live in a world based on self destruction

A world you don't understand where social anxiety overtakes me

I can't go a day without incessant worrying constantly eating at the corners of my mind

I am plagued with the demons threatening to take my life

But is this poetic?

Is this beautiful?

Are the tears and cries for help-

Silent in an unaccepting society

Where mental illness is synonymous with crazy-

Beautiful?

Am I just a teen looking for attention

Is this why I've pled with tears in my eyes

At the feet of my friends

'I'll do anything'

'Please just don't tell anyone'

Is this why I keep a blade at hand

And why I tear into my thighs

So that when my family looks at my wrists

And my friends give me knowing glances

I can smile and I can say

I'm fine

Because this is poetic

This is beautiful

My suffering is lovely

It is romanticized, faked, and begged for

So when you see me with a blade in my hand

And I am no longer a beautiful stranger with a poetic ending

When I become a daughter, a friend, a mother

When my relationship to you isn't just a stranger on the street

When the person holding the blade is real and in front of you

When they are someone you love and cherish

And darling when they are lying on the ground dead with blood surrounding them

I hope that their suicide note leaves only one thing left

I hope the only thing it says will shatter your romanticized daydream

I hope that that note utters this and only this question:

Is this still beautiful and poetic?