The silvery blade glimmers in the lamplight
Shallow red scratches crisscross limp wrists
The willing virgins for tonight's sacrifice
Laid bare for whatever fate I force upon them
"I thought the blood would flow after stroke one
That the razor would slice my flesh like warm butter
I see now that that isn't the case
I'm going to have to work for my release
I hold my Bible, my Deliverance over the flame
I heat it until my fingers begin to blister
I stare only a moment before I begin my work
One quick, hard slash and a long, red ribbon appears
They say that the first cut is always the hardest
Maybe it's true, for I don't remember any of the others
I felt that first one though, the sting of my torn flesh
The burning of liquid life running down my arms
The next 30 minutes pass in a haze
Burning, Ripping, Clawing, Crying
"Dear God just let me die!"
And still more crying
By the time my sobs have ceased the blood is thickening
I down five more aspirin and a glass of water
My stomach protests, but I force my bile back down
I've come to far to let a little nausea ruin me"
I look back on those words now and I want to cry
Want to reach through the pages and strangle myself
Want to rip my hair out and scream "you don't know what your doing"
I want to tell myself that dying isn't release
I wouldn't listen to myself though, just like I hadn't listened to anyone else
Just like I hadn't listened to him
Just like I hadn't listened to any one but my own dark half
Loved and wanted and too young and stupid to know how much I stood to lose
I want to grab that girl and pry the razor from her fingers
I want to cradle her to my chest until she can't cry anymore
I want to promise her that it only gets better from here
Just like I do all the other people who fight for their release
I know what it feels like to be that lonely
I know what it's like to be that afraid of life
And still, all these years later,
Every time I hear a story like mine on the news
Every time I see a lonely kid eating lunch by themself
I can't help but spare a quick look at the scars on my wrists.
Author notes
How do you Get that Lonely by Blaine Lawrson was the inpiration for this piece.
Written May 5th, 2006
A contest entry
- Inherited scars by Lithium n lollipops.
400 points, ended May 9, 2006, 6 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 10 of 10
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Not offended in the slightest. Not everyone is going to like every single one of my poems, and people who expect that are delusional. I apprciate it that you took the time to explaim your feelings, rather than just the typical 'hey...this kinda sux'
Thanks again -
"Just like I hadn't listened to him
Just like I hadn't listened to any one but my own dark half"
What a breath taking poem.
I really enjoyed reading it.
Is very true and emotional.
I feel that alot of people could relate to it.
I can especially to the two lines I quoted.
You have a very unique way with words
and to be honest I am not suprised that such an
amazing poem was inspired by that song.
You did an amazing job writing this poem.
I especially like the ending.
I've looked at my own scars after hearing of
another person's story.
Very powerful words.
Thankyou for sharing.
- Lithium n Lollipops
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well done...
awesome.....powerful and dramatic write...dark but think for many people this is how they feel. great imagery your words just capture the emotion and the picture they portray .... think many have been there before you if by reading your words it helps another express or know what they feel is not unique ... must say the ending is beautiful to me it tells of hope ... you may as you say look at the scars but you are able to see them...so hope is there ... as i was once told write it down in a poem... i have asked many to do the same and some of the poetry is really brilliant emotional sad but to the writer so real....so the words .... poetry saved my life tonight ... has power and it does work...well done...
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This poem meanders and is somewhat overwrought. However 3 lines I found that the narrative heightened considerably and the poem came alive were:
"I want to grab that girl and pry the razor from her fingers
I want to cradle her to my chest until she can't cry anymore
I want to promise her that it only gets better from here
"
These lines describe specific actions rather than merely tell the reader what the writer things; they allow the reader to provide meaning for themself. That makes them poetic.
the following line "Just like I do all the other people who fight for their release" goes back to being prosaic. It doesn't actually describe anything.. merely states a fact.
I only mention that line by way of explanation. It is not particularily boring, but it stands out by being adjacent to the 3 good lines. Hope you dont get offended by my comments. but there it is. -
... wow.. this is a moving piece... good flow and stirs emotions... and all i could think about were all the friends of mine who alway threat to cut everytime they get upset... all the ones who actually do... and the helplessness that i feel everytime they hurt themselves for no reason... for pointless, frivolous (spelling?) reasons... i wish there was some way to get it across to them that cutting, despite the fact that it is a release (been there... done it)... is not really the solution. Idk really... i don't think there is anything i can do but talk to them and be there.... well... i guess i rambled on a bit... i liked this pieces... and you saw what it made me think about...
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oh... this brings BACK TOO many memories.. been there, done that.. too many teens go through this... peace and 8hug* to you..shzoosy
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If you remove most of the "I's" and the adjectives and adverbs in this poem you will land up with an even more hardhitting piece...
D -
wow, that was by far powerful. the imagery, the emotion, reality, connection. everything, it was all there. stupendously written poem. i havn't exprienced what you or others have gone through. with the cutting and such. but i too try to bring hope to those that i do. please read my "Behind Hell's Ever Taunting Door," i think you'll like it. Great poetry, keep it up, and good luck in the contest!
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One word: DRAMATIC!
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GOOD STUFF
POWERFUL PIECE OF WRITING MADE ME FEEL SICK TO THE STOMACH.DON'T ENJOY READING STUFF ON THIS THEME THOUGH I CAN APPRECIATE WHY YOU HAD TO WRITE IT.I ALWAYS GET MY ANGSTS AND DEPRESSIONS OUT IN MY ART SONGS AND POEMS.IF NOT ALCHOOHOL USUALLY WORKS.STILL I GUESS I HAVE NEVER BEEN ANY WHERE NEAR THE SUICIDAL KIND OF PAIN.WELL WRITTEN PIECE ALL THE SAME.
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