Raised and white; these lanes go nowhere
A confused map with short dead ends.
Each a lie or put-down road block
One lost lover and five lost friends.
The violent blade still implores me
Its glinting eyes focus on skin
Its wicked smile and foul temptation
Replace the need to just ‘fit in’
Raised and white; these lanes go nowhere
One grand highway rips on through
Deep and gouging, red and ugly
In simple terms from me to you.
Sterile wipes and thick black stitches
Antibiotics and morphine drips
Sharply smelling disinfectant
A scar my dear that’s going to stick
The looks you get when you look like we do
A consequence for what we feel
We wear our pain on the outside
Broken, ugly…
But at least its real.
Author notes
Like many others i was a cutter. i cut from the age of 13 to 18 and stopped. like others have said you get looks, people think it makes you completely unstable, they don't realise that most the time it keeps you stable. you find ways of hiding it like foundation, long tops, i started cutting my ankles. a year ago i was going through bad times and fell back into old habits, i got very drunk and took a kitchen knife to my arm, a mix of the alcohol, the fact the kitchen knife was brand new and 9" long and that i hadn't done it for 3 years meant i cut far too deep. i severed the muscle and ligaments in my right arm right down to the bone. i was in hospital for 7days and on morphine amongst other things, i lost the use of two of my fingers and had to have physiotherapy for months and wear my arm in a fiber cast for 6 weeks so my fingers didn't freeze in a weird position. the experience was really horrible, the scar i now have is really big and ugly, i lie about it a lot although amongst the other smaller scars its pretty obvious! its kinda cured me though, it scared me so much (lots of blood, kinda thought i was gonna die)that now i get squeamish whenever i think about cutting.
this isn't my best poem but thats the story.
A contest entry
- Silence of The Lost Generation by she still smiles x.
600 points, ended January 20, 2008, 15 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Well done on the gold, easily deserved.
It's a very powerful poem, and you did what poets aspire to do, to show and not tell. It wasn't till the end of the third verse that I understood what you were talking about.
I got the idea of a blade pretty quickly, but the idea of scars as map lines is a very original and effective description.
I honesty can't find anything that could do with editing or changing.
It's a fantastic piece and well deserving of the gold.
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Great write
Glad you've overcome this.
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amazing!!
Hey! Congratulations on winning the contest!
Your poem was so beautiful! :] I could really relate to it, and it touched me a lot! It honestly brought tears to me eyes. Beautiful piece of work, this was breath-taking and incredible. It flowed very smoothly and of course, it spoke so much truth.
I read your 'author notes' and I really appreciate the honesty on something that is definitely not an easy thing to talk about. I'm an ex-cutter myself and I still remember the look on my mom's/one of my best friend's faces when I was forced to show them my arms...they looked at me like I was a complete stranger! I could never do that to somebody...never judge them for what method they use as an escape.
I'm glad you were able to quit. Showing true strength is being able to finally control something that has taken over and been a part of you for so long. Again, wonderful job!
Thanks for sharing it and entering the contest!
<3
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thank you so much for the gold, i really enjoyed the contest! x
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Oh my! Well I'm glad to see that you're no longer cutting. That doesn't set too well with me. As for the poem itself...you've done a fantabulous job sending the effects of what cutting does to people and how it looks.
Keep penning!
~The INC." -
this is a great poem that you have written. I applaud you for being able to tell about what you have been through, and you are right that people are judged because of cutting. which I think is really sad and pathetic. I am glad that you didn't die, and that you stopped. a close friend of mine cuts and I keep telling her that no matter what I am there for her and I will never judge her. what good does it do if one judges another because of their pain. I like the whole poem, especially the last stanza.
good luck in the contest.
kat
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Thank you kat, thats the best thing you can do is just be there, stopping will be her choice no matter who tries to help but having people around you who don't write you off as a "freak" are the ones you'll cherish. thanks for liking the poem, i always feel when you write personal stuff its hard to judge if it works or not. xx
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I think you're spot on about the personal stuff. It's really hard to look at emotionally driven pieces subjectively as something that can be "improved" because there's so much of ourselves in them, and they are what they are - the truth. However, I think personal poetry is about one of the purest forms of art. It's not easy to lay our own cards out for the world to see, let alone ourselves. What you've written is impressive in it's bareness, although, as with anything you write, the way you emote yourself is powerful, evocative and plain foogin wonderful (even in the darkest of subjects).
"Raised and white; these lanes go nowhere
One grand highway rips on through
Deep and gouging, red and ugly
In simple terms from me to you."
That stanza is gorgeous. I especially like the second line. There's a tone of caustic wit mingled with open anguish throughout this that's sort of cemented in that line. The last line is just gutting and works so well. It sums up how most people suffer - drawing an imaginary line that connects to someone else by expressing themselves in the most tactile way they can. We like to envision that we're punishing someone else, when usually we're just hurting ourselves.
It makes me so sad to read what you've been through, but that you are able to admit to it is beautiful. It's also important for me to mention that this doesn't succumb to self-pity the way lots of personal stuff tends to. I know I'm guilty as sin of pathos-dripping poetry, but you serve this up as honestly as an unspoken thought - without any superfluous teary mascara-based dressing.
Well I think you get it. You're amazing. Keep the good shit coming.
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this is one of those rare times when i am completely torn as to what i feel.
i just want to say that this poem brought back so many memories. and believe it or not i think of some of the ore disturbing memories fondly. its sick, i know, but i am sure by what i have read here that you can understand that.
it IS a way to keep yourself stable, in a time of instability. its wrong wrong wrong but sometimes its the only thing that pulls you away from an insanity that almost engulfs you. i know exactly what you were trying to say.
and the scars are just that, like a badge, like a pin, like some kind of sick twisted patch that is permanantly sewn into your arm and your soul. they become a part of you whether you initially wanted them to or not.
you did a fantastic job on explaining all of this in a poem.
as for a critique of the poem. i will get to it now.
"Raised and white; these lanes go nowhere"
this is a fantastic line that seems simple but really has a double and possibly even a triple meaning to some of us. i love your use of repition with it, it strengthens what you were saying. and the imagery is just.. wow.
also i wanted to voice my admiration for your last stanza. so much in one stanza! not length wise. you know what i mean.
overall you have great flow and imagery and meaning. this is one of those poems that leave me absolutely speechless, breathless.
i wish i could just hug you for this. my already very very high admiration of you has skyrocketed even higher. i didnt know that was possible!
just keep them coming. this is quite possibly one of my favorite poems of all time. or rather of the thousands i have read.
i
it. i you!
<3
Abby
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Thanks for such a possitive response abby, it is weird, its so much part of me. i look at them and like you say i have little smile to myself and think of it with fondness, i guess thats why the thought of doing it when things get bad is always there, because it allowed me to function as a normal person on the inside when i did it. its funny aswell how at the time i felt so alone, but now i know how many hundreds of people do it. thnks for the amazing comment xxxx
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i hope you dont self harm any more slink keep writing hugs
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a confessional poem, and a healing one, too. i commend you for the courage and honesty beating in the heart of your works: truth-telling is a restorative art. -r
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