It's cold and hard,
Sharp...
It can't hear your pain.
You use it to write your sorrows.
You slice it across your skin.
It's weakness,
An expression,
It's nothing you are.
So why can't you express yourself,
With words instead of a razor?
I see your sorrow,
I see you pain,
But I can't understand why I can't hear you cry.
It takes a lot to stand without that crutch.
But you need that strength...
Not the cuts.
And when you drag the blade across your skin,
Does it feel right?
Does it soothe you?
Have you even admitted your pain to you?
Why can't you voice your pain?
I'm always here to listen.
Why can't you see,
That the pain you are writing,
Is the pain you can't speak?
A contest entry
- crimson remorse by -echos lament-.
300 points, ended August 19, 17 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think, what you like, what you dislike, and what could be better!!!
Comments
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I liked the frustration that underlies this poem and I know that I have felt that frustration a few times in the past. I'm glad that you have expressed that side of cutting (or self-harming), because it does effect many people. In particular, I enjoyed the line "But I can't understand why I can't hear you cry." Good luck in the competition
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awesome
Well written.
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