A/N I've never cut, never have and hopefully never will. This poem is NOT about me, okay? But it's reality for some people, which is why I wrote this. For them. For YOU.
My own blood swirls,
Red going down the drain.
It should hurt,
But there's no pain.
Pleasure, warm and red seeps out the cuts.
Out the slashes, out the scars.
But eventually you must get out.
Out of the shower, onto the scale.
Look down scared, at the number there.
It's too high, much too much.
Ana whispers that she needs your trust.
Open up the toilet seat, inside comes out.
Yet Ana still says you're not eating tonight.
Can't concentrate, can't do your work.
Your mind is too filled with darkness to think of anything else.
Math makes no sense, the only thing you can write is death.
Teachers ask you why you don't do your work.
You just shrug and say you can't concentrate, you have no time.
Teachers angry, parents mad.
Apparently your life is going down the drain.
Nobody could guess how true that will be by the next day.
YOU ARE READING
Last Words
PoesiaPoems. Death, suicide, depression, cutting, sadness, loneliness, bullying, hope, religion, love, tears, pain, joy, and more. Read if you want poems and maybe a few one-shots too. But if you want everything to have perfect rhymes, sorry. Look somewhe...
