Cutters lulluby

My poem

This is one of my own poems and I'm so proud of this. I still don't know the writer of the first poem

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Roses are red, violets are blue. Sugar is sweet and so are you

Roses are dead the violets are to.

No one ever said the poem to you

Instead they say bitch and hoe and slut. The don't know these words make you cut

Not for one moment do they stop and think, they pain they case puts that blade to your skin

A cut for the girl who called you a slut , a cut for the guy who made that shit up

A cut for the boy that don't ask you out, with the reason that you look like a trout

That blade is my drug is my way out. For me with no question without a doubt

You never told anyone, no one knows. About the pain that happens right under there nose

Cutting is for attention, a call for help. But you may ask why I don't scream or yell

You think I haven't tried to shout out. But no one listens. They will only block you out

You finally find the courage to say. You tell you friend who's been there all the way

She grabs your arm and draws a heart and says "don't cut it. It's my heart on your arm"

You love this symbol but it makes you think. other people need to do the same thing

A heart for your mam who loves you loads. A heart for your dad who you will never loath

A heart for you sister who's always by your side. A heart for you brother who always makes you smile

A heart for the baby so fragile and new. You don't really wanna leave him. Do you?

If you don't believe that I really self harm just look at the scars I left on my arm.