No moreSlit my wrists and hope to die
Sit around and wonder why
I love you and you love me
But I want to be set free
Because of you I can't leave
Loving you is my pet peeve
Close your eyes, don't watch me fall
Cuz I'll want to end it all
I don't know if I'm still here
Or if I've succumbed to fear
I can live this life no more
I lay silent on the floor
I have no more tears to shed
Close my eyes, lay down my head
Slowly let my smile fade
Wonder if I should have stayed
ListenStop whatever you're doing
Don't listen to those fake thoughts
Put your hand over your heart
Do you feel that
Do you feel the beat
You're body is pulsating
And with light
And if you listen close enough
You can actually hear that in those beats
It's like listening to a clock ticking through time
Now, that's how to REALLY listen to your heart
And once you hear it's beauty
You'll want to hear more
So maybe it's time that you listen to someone else's heart too
Hearts beat in sinc
Just like how my heart beats for you
Let's take a break from this nightmare
Put your head on my chest
As my heart beats for you
And let our hearts gradually beat slower
As we fall asleep
Into a better dream
BurnCan you hear me?
Can you see me?
Do you fear me?
Could you be me?
What do you think?
Could it be true?
Is it possible,
That I could be you?
What do you say?
You sense that I'm here,
And I'm here to stay.
The words don't come out right,
The pain just stays in,
And there's nothing you can do about it,
No way you can win.
So let me hold you,
And watch you burn.
From dust you came,
To dust you return.
Read those words again
And that's exactly
What I did
I turned to you
"Do you think
That I might
And you said
But you did know
Would do anything
To help prevent it
Up to me"
Then I worried
Because you are my strength
You lifted up my chin
With your gentle grasp
And gazed into
My pool of tears
With your very own
"Even if you do
End up broken again
I will still be there
To pick up the pieces
By my side
In my heart
I knew I wouldn't fall apart again
We'd fall togeter
FarDeep or shallow
Full or hollow
After a while you don't even know
It all rushed so fast, yet went so slow
The signs are clearly starting to show
And now you're afraid as to how far you'll go
are you there?
I can feel your eyes boring into me,
I can sense your stare."
Is that all you have to say?
You have no words of "hope" to tell
Before I fade away?
I've come to heal.
I know exactly how you feel."
"You know nothing!" I harshly whispered.
"I refuse to take off the mask I have on.
The damage has already been done and it's irreversible now,
for I am already gone."
"What?" You uttered.
"What do you mean?"
Wow, you're clueless. But it is pitch dark,
so I guess the blood can't be seen.
"It's all over now." I whispered,
finally a real expression of peace on my face.
Now I finally saw that "hope" you spoke of,
as I slipped away, smiling and staring off into space.
Blend InWith sharp words and empty smiles
You discovered the will and strength that I was lacking
You took a swing at me and liked the power
So you just kept on attacking
You pushed me down and hovered over me
You lunged at old scars and kept on hacking
Your grin full of satisfaction and eyes full of venom
Because you could see I was breaking and cracking
Then I'm not quite sure what happened next
But I was aware of your feet clicking and clacking
Though I knew you were fleeing
I was unaware of what sent you packing
As I picked myself up, my vision was blurring
I collapsed in a corner, my mind slurring and slacking
My wish to "blend into the scenery" had come true
As I slipped away and became part of the wall to which I was still backing
WingsA rip and a tear
The glimmer of dim light causing the metal to glare
But we won't stop there
Because this is the only thing for which we still care
With every drop, we're falling fast and falling faster
Pushed to the edge by life's unmerciful disaster
The pure cruelty of this world hidden by lies
Kept caged behind sorrowful, sullen, sunken, dull eyes
And that's only part of our mask
But you should know better than to ask
Because after the first couple of cracks and chips
We decidedly seal our fake-smiling lips
For we are already weakened and wish to hurt no more
We're still trying to heal the hole you unknowingly tore
For when you went, emptiness was left behind
We can't believe we trusted you, we were childish, stupid, and blind
You must remember we're fragile and scared though we hate to admit
With every pang of guilt and shame, you know where it's going to hit
And because our mask isn't easily
he saved me, but he killed me.
i. first light- i met you in a crimson forest.
it was a rose garden summer, and out of a black mercedes
you walked out, your five year old eyes greener than
you reached up to pluck a rose from its stem, and offered it to me.
"what's your name?"
daddy told me that i couldn't tell strangers my real name.
I looked at the rose in my hand.
you smiled, you were a seastorm of now long-gone innocence.
i didn't understand
but I knew.
ii. i forgot about you for
1562 days, 11 hours, and 22 minutes,
my name, but i didn't recognize you
until i saw your eyes.
iii. my father fell and didn't stand back up again.
i screamed, and you carried me home.
iv. i didn't talk for a week.
i stared at the gray of the sky. it was the color of my father's eyes.
you sat next to me in the pouring rain,
Ugly Scars“Why do you cut, dear?”
“Doesn’t it hurt?”
Of course it does –
It hurts more than I’m worth
“Why do you cut, dear?”
“Aren’t you ashamed?”
Of course I’m embarrassed,
But I’m used to the blame.
“Why do you cut, dear?”
“Why don’t you stop?”
Can you stop a dead body
From starting to rot?
Because, darling, you see,
I’m not even here.
I’m only a corpse
With no hope, and no fear.
“Why do you cut dear?”
Well, don’t you see?
There’s a pain inside
So deep within me
And it’s coming to the surface
But no one understands
So I put that pain
Inside my hands.
And I lay it out
For all to see
On wrists so red
And forearms that bleed.
“Why do you cut, dear?”
“It’s ugly, you know.”
“ugly” is exactly
What this is meant
Self-Harm Isn't a HandbagPick at the scabs of the ghosts of scars
On the insides of my wrists,
White hot pain memories shoot up my veins
And the tear vapour creates mists
In the lenses of my glasses.
My world narrows down to those
White stitch marks that keep the
Patchwork of my forearms and thighs
Keeping the dark ugly hurt
On the insides
How could I have done this to myself?
Could I blame you?
And her too?
I’m a big girl now,
And the blame rests on my wrists,
That flicked the blade
And sprayed the blood,
And the mind that forbade
Me to ask for help.
I’ve said it before
And I’ll say it again;
It isn’t beautiful
To put yourself through such pain.
When your head is buzzing
From the hit of the high
Of a new cut on your thigh,
Or your mind is lost in a mist
Of ecstasy from a new slice
On your wrist
And you’re dependent on it
A junkie needing a hit,
It isn’t pretty or cute or special.
No amount of kisses
Will undo the cuts
Or absorb the scars.
Anxiety attackAs the attack begins,
I feel myself slipping away again.
And I question things that are better left unsaid.
And contemplate if I am better off dead.
My anxiety is killing me,
I feel my hands shaking.
And I am sobbing.
And am I dying?
I am just trying,
To get a grip.
But I feel my reality slip through my finger tips.
Nothing is real,
Except every bit of pain my mind forces me to feel.
Every memory that I had shoved away.
Is now racing around my brain.
It's driving me insane.
And my limbs turn to jello.
Every time my head hits the pillow,
Before I go to bed.
I start to panic and I am wide awake instead.
More thoughts are swarming around like a hurricane.
Make it stop!
And just like that,
The attack is gone.
The Wrong Side Of MidNightOn The Doctor's Train
I Met The Princess Of The Dawn,
But We Were
On The Wrong Side Of MidNight.
God's PaintbrushI've learned that God's paintbrush is incredibly flawed,
with lashes picked at, and bristles torn nearly off.
I don't think everybody likes what God paints,
because we're always trying to smear it away.
We cut off a few pounds, or cut up some skin,
when we soil the paper, we throw it in the trash bin.
I think His paper has been sauntered with tears,
or blood, and vulgar language from our peers.
Like others have taken His brush and dipped it in oil,
and have painted themselves, in a way that's soiled.
I knew that God's paintbrush was incredibly flawed,
but that doesn't mean that we should change it at all.
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” they say,
perhaps it would be better to keep it that way.
I'm incredibly certain that God makes no mistake,
I think that we do, when we try to be fake.
When we take His art into our own hands,
and when we ruin the strokes that He carefully commands.
I don't really think that God wants us to be perfect,
if so, then He wouldn't take th
concrete doesn't exist without waterwe dream about the nights
where your head is resting
against my chest,
with blankets sprawled,
our legs intertwined
you right hand locked
with my left,
and my right hand
placed on your lower back.
and while i see these things
in my sleep,
i lie awake imagining
the fragile moments too.
not your cliche
but when i say something
without thinking and it hits
you in the place where i swore
i’d protect with my life.
when i say something
that means the world to me
and it’s nothing
but a scoff for you.
when someone’s loved one
finally meets meta
and we have to be there
still dealing with the physical.
i think of those moments
far too often
and how we’d handle
them when we’re just strong
enough to be fragile.
simplicity is intentional
and humanism is concrete
until life hits
and it isn’t what you imagined.
Although I really like this poem's presentation, I don't like what is being implicated in it. I won't say DSH is a good thing, but I agree, this poem was inventive about how it portrayed DSH (it might have been clichéd by the ending, but overall, I wasn't expecting it).
Things should turn out better soon. I'm praying that they do for you.