as my gaze shifts from the metal in my hand-
to the healing scabs on my thigh
then i look down at my leg.
a long thin white scar is barely visable.
around it, other small healed evidence of cuts grace my skin.
as a rouge tear slides slowely down my cheek.
i get up slowely,
raising above temptation,
i walk to the bin like a girl possessed.
i bite my tongue as i clench my fist.
but the razor doesnt cut my palm.
no blood, not anymore.
my parents dont believe me,
but i do.
it has to be done.
this painful obsession has taken over 6 months of my life.
each day bleeding into the next like the crimson that flows from my razors presence.
swallowing back the rain of tears that is threating to spill more each second,
i let the blade drop.
i stare as it falls.
i watch in amazement.
how could such a brittle, such a sharp, such a thin, such a powerful piece of metal have such an intense hold over me?
its like i NEED it.
like i can rely on it.
as my eyes follow its decend.
the moment seemed to last forever.
i feel as if a weight has been lifted.
i know there will always be something sharp enough to allow my impulses to slit.
i just have to be stronger.
because now im seeing that there's something to hold onto
Author notes
well.
everyday, i'd come home from school and wait till dark would come, and then slice away at the sorrow.
it would be my only motivation.
i couldnt pin point a certain reason for it, it just felt good.
but lately...things have been going ok. and i WANT to stop.
A contest entry
- Even when your hope is gone, move along by Barely Breathing.
450 points, ended June 21, 2008, 18 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Turn your Green Trophies into Bronze, Silver or Gold by FloridaGatorQueen.
600 points, ended June 29, 2008, 63 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
please comment and check out my other poems
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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i think you definatly captured the feelings of most cutters. i wish more people could understand that cutting is like a drug and that its not that we necessarly want to do this but that we become addicted and it consumes us. nicely done!
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WOW AMAZING POEM! I love it I only wish I can stop I've been a cutter for over a decade. You poem is powerful and really speaks volumes. I am truly proud of you my friend I wish you the best.
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Thi is an awesome poem. I like the way you let your feelings flow. It is good you want to stop cutting. I enjoyed the read! Thank you for entering my contest.
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I'm so proud of you!! You can stop, I know you can do it. It is extreemly hard. The urge to do it is constantly there, and calling. I believe you can do it.
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Oh wow, sweetie... that's good for you... but the entire thought scares me... to COMPLETELY stop cutting of my own will? Wow I'd never have the strength to do that. I admire it...
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This is wonderful. I really enjoyed reading through this and the imagery here is great. You have described this is all so well and I could actually picture the razor slowing dropping. Well done and also well done for wanting to stop. It is hard to stop an addiction, especially when it has such a hold on you, but if you can stop it, you will feel amazing. There is nothing like conquering something that has had such a hold on you. Well done and thank you for entering my contest.
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Wow, this is a powerful poem. I loved the lines
how could such a brittle, such a sharp, such a thin, such a powerful piece of metal have such an intense hold over me?
I am trying to stop cutting. I really feel that these lines summarize my cutting problem. It's an addiction, and the razor has control over me at times. Anyway, awesome write.
XXCrimsonRaineXX
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