[I hate how I couldn’t seem to
Tug my stitches tighter.]
I held myself together with scar tissue.
Every time I felt like I was fa-fa-falling apart
I would oh so gently place a scar upon my
Wrist;
And hope I wouldn’t start to come
Undone again.
I fought with myself, two much different
Parts of my feuding over whether the scars
Fixed the pain or hurt me more.
(My mind versus my hands.)
My heart and mind wanted so bad to prove that
My stitches were holding nothing together at all,
But my hands kept showing me beautiful things;
How if I held my breath and [pressed&&slid] the razor across
My wrist, I could practically fly.------>
x x x x x x x x x x
I often wondered what the night sky was trying
To say when I lay in bed, staring up into the stars,
And decoding cryptic messages shoved in the stars.
I hoped maybe someday they would show me
What they were trying to say.
How long I spent praying to the blanket of sky for answers
Is still in question.
(Those were the nights I ended up stitching more
Scars onto my wrists.)
x x x x x x x x x x
I was oblivious to the Earth around me,
I only heard and saw myself. [the pain I felt.]
Even the air seemed hard to breathe in.
My chest threatened to break at any moment
Because when I inhaled my chest wanted to
Explode,
And when I exhaled my chest began to
Collapse.
(Or atleast it felt like it.)
Eating was no longer necessary
And my exposed bones seemed to prove the point.
My eyes opened only at night and for days at a
Time, I would not sleep.
And while I was awake at night, I would bleed
And watch with a smile on my face as
I felt a release. I only lived for the blood
Because I knew it oh so well.
My existance was malnourished at best and
The world around me was gray, like an
Unused coloring book.
But I didn’t care because I had something
Constant, stable to lean against and possibly
Learn from.
But I wasn’t about to go home, like a
Child after a day at school, and scream out
“Mommy, mommy, guess what I learned today!?”
Because what I learned was definitely not
Something to be remotely proud of.
If Mommy knew, where would I be sent?
(Far, far away in a land [after] time.)
♥?
Author notes
My story. with imagery.
and a slight insane twist.
but I promise that I know this is horrible. If you think so too, don't bother to tell me.
♥
A contest entry
- dark....sad...make me CRY!!! by Emotional-wreck.
420 points, ended May 24, 2008, 14 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - dIrTy PrEtTy by poetrytoopeneyes.
600 points, ended June 15, 2008, 22 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
----> Numb
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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Yeah, this is pretty sad. My favorite was the last stanza. I don't know why I liked that part so much, but it just seems like something most poems about self-mutilation forget about... but is really necessary. Good write.
-
My existance was malnourished at best and
The world around me was gray, like an
Unused coloring book.
But I didn’t care because I had something
Constant, stable to lean against and possibly
Learn from.
But I wasn’t about to go home, like a
Child after a day at school, and scream out
“Mommy, mommy, guess what I learned today!?”
Because what I learned was definitely not
Something to be remotely proud of.
If Mommy knew, where would I be sent?
GREAT YES...horrible [not so much] great job i really really really enjoyed reading this. good luck!
-
Good
The part::
I fought with myself, two much different
Parts of my feuding over whether the scars
Fixed the pain or hurt me more.
sounded awkward, in my mind at least. Maybe it's supposed to be ME, instead of MY?
-
i hope you aren't offended that i find beauty in your pain... but this was an amazing write.
-
I don't think this is horrible. It's horribly sad, and I'm sorry it happened to you, but this is a well written, expressive poem.
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