[FakeSmiles]

I don't think these poems are any good, they were written purely in the spur of the moment as an attempt to get rid of my negative emotions and get rid of my urges to cut. They were written a good few years ago when I was about 13 and I only just dug them out of a dusty box under my bed :) I just thought I'd share :) if anyone has any ideas on how I can improve my style/language etc please leave a comment and let me know, as I really would love to get better at poetry writing :)

Concido (To Fail)

A million pale lines,
Wrist to shoulder,
Shoulder to wrist,
All the way up,
All the way down.
I trace them with my fingertip,
Every single one.
Each is a reminder
Each a "note to self",
To not be so stupid next time.
So sick of feeling like this
Night and day
Every waking moment
And every dreaming hour.
Sick of feeling so useless,
So hopeless,
So lost,
So damn inadequate.
Desperate for a moments relief,
Just a little release.
So,
Here's the choice,
March straight on,
Or back right down.
Give up,
Or be strong.
So what do I do?
I ignore every pale line, that's what,
Each one etched into my skin.
I reach for that blade aga.
That tiny inanimate object I've come to hate so much.
That tiny inanimate object I've relied upon for so long.
For a moments peace of mind
The price of innocence must be paid.
Blood drips,
Tissues litter the floor, stained red.
With each drip of blood a tear is close behind.
Stupid, stupid girl.

Victim

She's trying to stop,
Not that you'd know.
For angry streaks of scarlet are slashed across her skin.
She's wanting more but she's too scared.
Too scared that she won't stop,
That she won't hold back,
That she'll slip slowly away fromt his life.
She wants to keep cutting till she's covered,
Covered in tangles of bleeding, throbbing lines.
She needs to stop,
But she's addicted.
Once a razors best friend,
Always it's victim.


Feelings

Age 11
Needing help,
Unable to process these feelings.
Feelings of anger,
Feelings of hate,
Feelings of loneliness dished up on a plate,
Feelings of emotional agony,
Ripping at my insides,
Turning them black.
Needing help yet unable to cry out.
Pain pressing in,
Needing release,
Pain pressing in,
Fighting it's way out,
Pain pressing in,
tood hard to bare,
Pain pressing in,
I need it to go,
Pain pressing in,
To release it's hold,
Pain pressing in,
Suffocating,
Blurring,
Crushing,
Drowning.

Battles

Angry red wounds all over,
Wrist to shoulder,
Knee to hip.
A criss-cross tapestry of painful reminders
Twinging when I move.
"You're weak"
They would say
If they could talk.
Oh if only they could talk,
The stories they'd tell
Of hurt
And loss
And pain.
Scars now remain from battles fought,
And battles lost.
[IMG]file:///C:/Users/Geoffrey/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot-4.jpg[/IMG]


[IMG]file:///C:/Users/Geoffrey/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot-2.jpg[/IMG][IMG]file:///C:/Users/Geoffrey/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot-3.jpg[/IMG]