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Literature Text
I cut myself today
To see if it would heal
To see if the blood was red
To see if I am real
Old scars...there
Right there, on my wrist
Sure, they healed
The memorys just mist
This one is different
This is deeper
Right to the soul
Right to my fear
Hello darkness
My old friend
This time, were here
even pas the end
To see if it would heal
To see if the blood was red
To see if I am real
Old scars...there
Right there, on my wrist
Sure, they healed
The memorys just mist
This one is different
This is deeper
Right to the soul
Right to my fear
Hello darkness
My old friend
This time, were here
even pas the end
Literature
The Cuts
On the wrist
On the neck
or anywhere on my own
im not comiting sucide
im not even attempting
its just the pain
Pain
adding up
building up
forming inside me
the ache of this unfit heart
broken
given
smashed
freed
and the torture
cuts adding, mulitiplying even
to inflict physical pain
to release emotional pain
The blood dribbles off
flowing carelessly on my clothes
or in the air
or on the floor drying away
a stain
of my pain
it scars up
but the pain
inside of me
crawls around
never wanting to go away
some part of me begs it to leave
some part of me pleads it to stay
But the cuts...
...my cuts......
will stay wi
Literature
Self Harm
I scratch,
White marks appear.
As they turn red,
Out pours all my anger.
I smash,
My head against walls.
Pain soars through my body,
Releasing all my mental pain.
I burn,
Red marks on my skin.
They bring freedom,
Setting me free from the fires of hell.
Hurting no one but myself.
Finding mental freedom from physical pain.
Red, white, purple, blue.
Anger, rejection, upset, pain.
People say it's wrong,
They look down their noses.
Only making things worse,
Friends leave, strangers frown.
So,
I can't cope with my mental pain,
But i've never inflicted pain on YOU.
Literature
Cutting
My thighs were first.
Then my wrists.
And shoulders.
And fingers.
And feet.
Everything.
Ripped out at
the seams.
I ripped them out myself,
if only to avoid
giving others the pleasure.
I ripped them out hard,
if only to teach myself
a lesson:
I deserved it.
I ripped them out
and all the while
I sang to myself,
unable to cry
or scream
for fear
that
it would
make the
pain less real.
I joked about them.
I laughed about them.
I smiled about them,
calling myself
"the stupid emo kid"
and believing it was true.
It was true.
To me.
I deserved it.
I needed it.
I craved it.
I wanted it.
I breathed it.
I worshipped i
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Deep cuts
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Comments23
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This shows exactly what i feel you did a great job of portraying your feelings here i am an admirer.