I looked in the mirror and all I could see was:
‘I Hate You’
splattered in blood.
My blood.
And then I screamed.
Not because I wrote it on the mirror in front of me,
-because I carved it on my arm,
and then I looked down,
and saw what I’ve become,
and hated it.
Then I realized that I’ve been trying to run away from my own mind,
-but where can you run to escape from yourself?
Author notes
This is a poem close to my heart. It is real. And it is painful. Thanks for reading
In a list
A contest entry
- Gimme Gimme by A.Broken.Lullaby.
455 points, ended August 2, 33 entries
Honorable winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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great job
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Though not a cutter myself, I understand the feelings of desperation and self-loathing that would drive someone to such measures. You pose a valid question... How to escape from one's self, the very blood that courses through one's own veins? Thanks for entering.
Laura -
I might sound insensitive when I write that this was a nice poem, but it's true
Writing truly helps, and it's a totally harmless way of removing out your frustations. Been there, done that and now stopped; so there's much hope.
Goodluck and best wishes!
God Bless!
Fourthaxis
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