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Old 17-12-2018, 09:05 AM   #1
Surf the waves to keep from drowning in them.
Join Date: Dec 2018
I am currently:
Reviews requested-Contains Upsetting Material Poem

This is a poem I wrote last year after having been clean from drugs for 2 years and no self harm during that time as well. Then, around this time last year, I fell into a deep depression and the desire to cut showed up, so this poem was my efforts to dislodge the obsession and make it something beautiful and creative and perhaps inspiring as well!!! Feedback is welcome!!


A young girl, so full of pain, yet so void of life.
Wishing, praying for death, vaguely she tries.
A sharp edge, across her wrist,
Wishing she could go deep enough to end this.
Only small streaks appear, like from a briar patch,
But she notices a sense of relief by the small scratch...
Intrigued, she waits for emotions to come again,
Then she reaches for a sharp edge to inflict the physical pain.
It works, she's high!
Through crimson tears, she'll cry
No more internalized
This!! Pain released, is realized!
Again and again, pain inside grows.
Again and again, blood outside flows.
Again and again... yet nobody knows.
Locked up on the inside,
Covered up on the outside,
Acting out false pride.
Happy smiles, she lied.
The years still come, the years still go.
The scars cover her shoulder, her wrist, her elbow
Her legs, her chest, her neck
If she coulda reached it, woulda covered her back.
Long sleeves in many Alabama summers,
No one seeks why, no one states their wonders.
Alone, isolated, eventually she breaks,
Seeking solace from all her life mistakes,
Finally, on her own, important steps she takes.
Choices to change, to survive, she makes.
Her first of many drugs to come,
Powerless over her addiction,
Unmanageable, she succumbs,
Be it a metal razor to cut, or a pipe to smoke crack,
She decides then and there, she won't take them back.
Healing from drugs,
She also heals her latest cuts.
Leaving one Warrior, she becomes her own.
Meetings, prayers, calling others on the phone.
Time goes by, the now woman becomes strong.
Six months, nine months, a whole year???
HOLY ****!! never that long has she gone.
Eighteen months, still holding her **** together.
TWO YEARS!!! you could blow her over with a feather...
but wait, three months more and it hit her.
her flesh still screams, still cries for the razor.
A new life, college graduation.
New opportunities now awaitin'
The fear sets in, she's sweatin'.
Flesh again, for the razor, beggin!
"Cut me! cut me! You can't handle this.
This whole time, it's me you've missed.
A white keytag with me you can skip,
And I promise, this cloud of pain from you I'll lift.
Just trust me, like you always did.
I never lied, I never fibbed
I love you always, for me you bled.
And I know it's me you have never gotten out of you head..."
And so it has been, still is, and will be.
You, the cut, my constent enemy.
Please, go away, leave me be!
I pray for courage, wisdom, but mostly serenity.
But seems Iíve already chosen, decided, you win.
So why is it Iím writing instead of giving in??

WhiteTigerInAlabama is offline   Reply With Quote