I once knew a boy who loved to draw,
Beautiful pictures nobody saw.
He drew by himself.
Alone at night.
Locked in his room,
Out of sight.
His pictures were strange,
They came with a twist.
His pen, a razor.
His canvas, his wrist.
We lay out one night,
watching the stars,
When he rolled up his sleeve,
And showed me his scars.
I wasn't alarmed,
I knew what to do.
So I rolled up my sleeve and said
I draw too.
A/N- Agian, no, I have not EVER met Ashton Irwin, but I know that he used to cut. He stopped for the fans though. Tell me I'm not the only one who cried the first time we learned that the beautiful, happy, perfect Ashton used to scar his skin. Disclaimer! I DID NOT WRITE THIS POEM!
YOU ARE READING
Quotes and poems that I find on the internet, or make myself about self-harm.
PoetryIf you've ever wondered what it feels like to self-harm, or feel depressed, read this. Or, if you have depression, or self-harm, or maybe both, and you want to now if you and I have the same point of view on the subjects, then you can also read. Ple...
