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Never gonna miss what I left behind...
Join Date: Nov 2007
Location: Dublin - Ireland
I am currently:  
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Triggering (SI) - Poems by me...
A few self-harm poems written by me over the past few years, descriptive and possibly triggering...
All comments/criticisms appreciated.
Written when I was 17, this is the first SI poem I ever wrote.
My Self-harm.
I look at what's in front of me,
My face turns to a frown.
I see the red lines clearly,
They zigzag up and down.
They cross in all directions,
Like a game of X's and O's.
But what they are, and why they exist,
I'm the only one who knows.
These lines are not on paper,
These lines so red and thin
are the marks of all my anger
engraved upon my skin.
Whenever I'm feeling emotional pain
because of something or someone in life,
I turn it into a physical pain
by picking up the knife.
It's easy to make another mark
to distract me from how I'm feeling.
The pain caused by the blade
gives a temporary healing.
I don't know how to stop it,
but I still hate who I am,
So I take the blade, release the blood,
And feel the sudden calm.
I know this isn't the answer.
The blood runs down my arm.
This is my distraction.
This is my self harm.
Written in December 2005...
Un-named.
Reminders of you still haunt me within,
And the memory of you is still carved in my skin.
Rejection hurts bad, but the blade numbed the pain.
I shouldn't have got my hopes up again.
I should have known it was too good to be true,
I could never be loved by someone like you.
What would you see in someone like me,
And why the unwanted must I always be?
Why am I the fool, always lead along?
What am I doing that makes things go wrong?
Why must I aim, but each time I miss?
And why do I have to resort to this?
When something goes wrong, and crying wont help,
Why must I take it out on myself?
It's your fault I hurt, yet I take the blame.
Every dream always ends up the same...
A self-harm poem now.
Another teary night now,
In my room by myself.
Thinking too much and listening to
Staind doesnt seem to help.
"I'm on the outside" now,
And that's where I belong.
Cos everything that I hope for
always seems to go wrong.
The blade lies tempting me now,
So here, once more I slip.
Several tearful slices
and the blood begins to drip.
I sit and nurse my cuts now,
While crying out my eyes.
I rejoice in my shameful bliss
that so many criticise.
But things seem so much better now.
Is it really such a crime?
The blood doesn't seem to be stopping.
Did I go too deep this time?
I start to panic here now,
And I pray the flow will stop.
I breathe a sigh of relief here
as I see the final drop.
My arm's a field of cuts now,
I really have got issues.
I pull down my pyjama sleeve
and hide the blood-stained tissues.
I stand up and dry my eyes now.
Sure tomorrow's another day.
Another day of wearing long sleeves
and pretending I'm ok...
No name.
Another week, another fight,
Shout and scream, insist you're right.
Tell me I'm selfish, call me some names,
But which one of us should be feeling the shame?
If only you knew what I do when you walk out of the room,
You think I don't care, yes you just assume
That I have an "attitude", we're all the same at "this age"
But really, when you leave, I take out the blade.
Open up the drawer, retrieve my object of relief.
While countless tears of anger stream quickly down my cheeks.
Teenage stereotype - "No-one understands me"
Label me how you like, cos it is I who brands me
with many cuts of sadness and angry red lines,
Scars to represent all of those times
that you made me feel so down, what I couldn't express.
Look what you've done to me, now I'm a mess.
Your precious baby, so many future plans.
You have made me what I am.
Losing my grip on what is real,
Afraid to tell you how I feel.
I know you'd never understand.
I hurt myself so that you can't.
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