my poems, and some of my faves

Cold hard blade, warm soft skin
Combine the two, the cleansing begins
Others don't get it, reasons they demand
For my bloody tears, so hard to understand
After I bleed, it is my learned belief
My self is calm, I have found relief
I am nothing like my outside shows
I am pain, that my inside knows
All about me is fake, I am forever acting
Body and soul pay the price
Scarring toll I am exacting.

The pain inside cannot be seen

Unseen, therefore un-real

Red hot burning strokes

Pain, anguish, all unreal

Red-hot tears flowing down my arms.

The pain un-real, suddenly becomes real

Surroundings become clear

Fear flows freely

Breath in, breath out

Pull yourself together girl

Roll down your sleeves and get on with life.

The pain inside can now be seen

It’s a cycle so vicious no-one ever wins

It starts with self hate

And ends up so much worse.

It's an addiction, so hard to break

I started it to escape

From the world and all the realities.

After not too long I started looking for a way out

From the tool I used to escape.

It’s an addiction, so hard to break

It may not be the most ideal way of coping with life

But at the time it was all I could get.

I grasped it with both hands

But when I wanted to let go

It had over me a strong hold

With almost no way out.

It’s an addiction, so hard to break


Pale white skin;
Thin lines of scarlet.
The razor only can release the pressure,
Focus the pain,
Calm the raging forces.
Old lines are pink
Some ticked with stitches;
They linger as ghosts,
Passage of old pain,
Proof of old pressure.

Others stare frankly,
Nudge, and poke,
Reach out, and touch,
"Why? Why?"
No pain in their experience
So deep,
No pressure so intense.
Blind hearts ask, "Why? Why?"

No answer.


My razorblade,
my best friend.
You make me bleed
to ease my pain.
You keep me alive
when there is no hope.
My best friend,
thank you for you are
the reason I am alive.


Father forgive me for I have sinned
I enter into confession with impurity
My transgression is already visible
By the scars on my arms

Father forgive me
For I have betrayed my faith in You
I have destroyed Your Temple
I need help to raise it up

Father break me
Recast the mold
Resurrect a new me
Like Lazarus

Father forgive me
I have lost sight in Your providence
I have questioned Your protection
I have failed to understand Your judgments

Father destroy me
Cleanse my unclean self
Bring beauty out of the ashes
Bring good from the suffering

Father forgive me
I know not what I do
Receive my offering of sacrifice
My bloody wrists is all I have to offer for penance

I feel my demons coming
they are screaming deep inside
as they try to rip my soul apart
there is no place I can hide.

Coming with destructive thoughts
they are filling up my head
whispering pain into my ears
I might as well be dead.

So I go into my lonely room
I just can't fight anymore
all the rage and self-hate
I just can't seem to ignore.

Here I scream and sit in silence
so many tears flood my eyes
needing to release my inner torment
needing someone to hear my cries.

I grab the matches & a candle
as I turn off all the lights
I watch the razor cut me slowly
it's going to be another bloody night.

Too many thoughts inside my head
I no longer want to feel
as I cut my arm wide open
the outer pain is no big deal.

The blood is warm & flowing
I feel no fear or alarm
just a feeling of great relief
as my inner pain flows down my arm.

As I start feeling better
as my tears begin to dry
knowing that I've paid the price
Now I don't have to die.

People don't really understand
so I cannot tell a soul
That I have just climbed out of
my dark and private hell hole.

So I hide the cuts, put on a smile,
& tell everyone...I'm ok
Because they don't want to hear my reality
"I'm ok"...that's what they want me to say.

Some don't want to deal with
the awful truth I tell
they don't want to know the facts
about my private living hell.

I can't really blame them
from running away from me
so I just accept the way it is
I walk away and let them be.

So...I keep my demons & memories
locked way down deep inside
until they rise up again
where I can no longer hide.

I know my demons will return
bringing up all my pain
then I'll turn to my bloody razor
and do this whole damn thing again.

There are more but I thought this post was long enough already. whatever you wanna say, feel free. :)

good stuff st.

ty ty. i think they suck but oh well.

it's the standard rhyming verse style. those are no as easy as they seem to put together. you did very good on it though....which is kinda nice coming form me cuz I tedn to not like standard rhyme verse style poems.

thank you very much.

Sunshine, the rays burn through my skin.
Blisters and swells, red rash.
Insides are contaminated,
Poison seeps through.
Locked away in my dark hole,
I can't get out.
Shakes and tears.
I swim through my blurriness
And find a way out.
Bright, silver and shiny,
It's a beautiful piece of art.
Slice, slice, slice.
The poison is released....
Oh no, here comes the sun again.
`
I'm sorry I can't be perfect.
I've given all that I can give.
It's hard to try your hardest,
When you don't even want to live.
I've been through endless shit,
But who even wants to hear it?
I used to be so cheerful and happy,
All this shit made me lose my spirit.
How many times in this life have I been abandoned,
By my own family and friends?
So many times, to a point where I don't feel wanted.
God wasted time creating me.
I'm just a waste of space.
You've got no talent, and a bad voice.
Ugly personality, ugly face.
I'm sorry I can't be perfect.
I'm sorry I bring you disgrace.
I'm sorry I was even born.
I'm sorry I'm part of the human race.
I can't please you,
I'm sick of trying.
Outside I am smiling,
Inside I am dying.
You think it don't get to me.
Secretly I wish I were dead.
I'm not going to try anymore.
I wish I were on my deathbed.
I can't bear the pain.
I can't stand the hurt.
But you don't care,
You all treat me like dirt.
I'm sorry I can't be perfect.
I've given all that I can give.
It's hard to try my hardest,
When I don't even want to live.

Hollow girl, nothing left inside
empty soul, too much left to hide
tired mind, standing at the edge
pain filled eyes, wonder why I tried.

Hollow girl, fighting through the day
lying words, although the scars betray
salty cheeks, all the times I cried
tired life, wonder why I stay.

Hollow girl, crying though the night
quiet tears, only out of sight
bloody hands, there has to be another way
waiting game, will it ever be alright?

Hollow girl, crippled by the pain
hurting child, see her in the blood stain
groping arms, reaching for the light
broken bits, wanting to be whole again.

Hollow girl, could you understand?
slipping feet, searching for the land
future gone, drowning in the rain
begging now, please come hold my hand

Hollow girl, wanting to be dead
endless thoughts, racing through my head
will to try, slipping through like sand
Hollow girl, will I bleed instead?

Last nite I went to the store
I needed some things, I thought.
I ended up with more razor blades
In addition to normal stuff I bought.
I stood in front of the display
Each row a different brand name
Debating o'er the 5 or 10 pack
Are they really all the same?
I actually stood there thinking
How many will I need?
Is five enough before I'll stop
Needing to see myself bleed?
In this store, the razor blades
Are behind a little plastic door
That emits a loud squeal when you open it
So everyone sees you for sure.
Every now and then I imagine
That everyone in the store knows
That I really don't use them for shaving
And they're whispering 'oh, there that crazy one goes'.
When I need to buy tape and gauze
And ointment to handle the sore
I am afraid they will figure the whole thing out
So I get those at a different store.
It's so ironic, what I go through
To hurt myself again.
Will I ever stop for good?
Is it possible? If so, when?......

It's really very beautiful
The feeling that you get
With every little slice
With every little slit

This touch of blood
This kiss of pain
Releases all the feeling
Driving me insane

With every cut
I become pure
So over and over
I do it more and more

Don't think it's suicidal
For that is not the case
It's a way to release my anger and fear
Instead of showing it on my face

Please don't yell at me to stop
That only makes it worse
Don't talk to me about scars
I don't care I NEED THE HURT.

Dry on the outside empty within
The shadows of doubts and fears I bring
They come to haunt me, haunt me at last
Now I stop trying for it to come to pass

Find some peace in the deep dark place
To feel the smile such a beautiful taste
Is it fake to feel this way
Or am I hoping for another day

I pushed you away with spite and pain
The look on your face never the same
I close my eyes and see you there
You hold, you kiss me, you tell you care
But then I wake and remember
The first days in November

I want to feel you all the ways
I want to know that you'll take it all away
This pain can be healed in words you said
Just get this poison out of my head

The seams stitched up on that night of buzz
It was you and I, it was we, it was us
I was happy and felt that smile
The quivering wreck so deep in denial
But now it's bitter—left lonely and broke
In my head the only words spoke

I need you to take away the painless pain
The extremes of this habit, and how it came
I depend on a hope that I will be free
If I can put back what I never see

This is drowning me, making me weak
Inside this vile, wicked, horrible freak
I'm so tired, tired of living this lie
These deserving pains that I hide
They're tearing me up but which way to go
I wish I could make it deep and make it flow

What I have seen the passion and the sorrow
The sigh of tired in hope for tomorrow
Going through the motions over and again
The happy, the lust, confusion, and rain
It does not change it never will
Will I ever find peace unless cold and still
I am already empty, I know that it is real
But to the observers so deafening, so surreal

Cuts run shallow, cuts run deep,
Cuts release blood, and make others weep.
Cuts can be hidden, or right out there,
On someone's hand, you never know where.
Cuts help with pain, though in not the best way,
Cuts help deal with the daily strain,
And sometimes don't fade away.
Cut yourself with razors, a knife will do,
Shatter some glass, use a sharp nail or two,
I've tried them all, I've burnt myself too.
Sometimes I do it to see if I'm real,
To see if it hurts, or to help me deal.
After a few times I get addicted you see,
I have to fight those urges in me,
The urge to cut, the urge to burn,
The urge to cause so much hurt that I yearn.
You may think I'm crazy, or clinically insane,
But I'll do it again, I'm addicted to pain.

I look down
Shards of glass, tiny icicles
Etching tiny red rivers thru the landscape of my skin
Painless spidery rivers keep trickling

Ever walk into a room where someone is going into a monolouge, and you just find them a bit tedious.(e.g. Quentin Tarantino)

I did not, not enjoy them. but I am unsure why I didn't like them.
W.T.F. do I know about it.

guess you have to go through it to understand where im coming from

is good st. keep em coming.

I don't think that your topic can carry the length in words you want it to. You seem to lack creativity as well.

well, i like em specially the last one. very angry.

i write what i feel, if you dont like it, dont read it, its that simple. im sorry you dont like them, im not trying to be "creative" im just trying to express my feeling in a way that doesnt involve slitting my wrists.

I'm sorry, I thought you were sharing because you wanted peoples opinions.

On another note, I read your profile and saw you liked the village. I think that movie is awesome too. (as well as your choice of quotes)

its one of my faves. im surprised my dvd hasnt worn out by now.

Flowing to an unseen basin; a cleansing shower of blood
Crimson black, deep bright red river; no life exists
This red river is the only thing that ever stays warm
Thick red river I visit you; you are my own my savior
Red river, life-giver, my friend
My friend, my curse, my voluntary pain, my therapy
My self-injury, my repetitive self-injury
Repetitive red rivers running courses carefully carved
Thru pale, soft, white flesh; without thinking or feeling
Dams block you in the form of scars, damn scars, red river
With your broken throbbing banks and your crooked paths
I am now drowning in this river; becoming absorbed
Into its murky fire-colored depths; but still I continue
Hidden little red river; my obsession
If only they traveled down your waters . . . they would understand

All these emotions flooding my mind:
I don't think I'll ever find any reasoning, answers, any Understanding.
Confusion ... confusion is my worst enemy.
But hasn't it been right here with me from the start?
Does that make it my friend?
I want no part.

No part in all this.
It's maddening.
I used to know why I felt this way, but now all my reasons have
Faded to gray.
What now?
How do I calm myself?

Look around my room, I find a silver tack.
Sit down on my bed and dig in!
Rubbing earnestly back and forth on my wrist
I can hear the skin tear.
Crimson rises to the surface,
Hypnotizing me with its beauty.
I must see more.
Before a single thought enters my mind, I look down to find my Hand scratching furiously and now the lava flows.
I stare at it for a while and smile at what I've done.
I've let all that's bad inside me out.
This is my sacrifice.
My sacrifice to myself,
To my past.

The pain I feel is wonderful!
Finally! A pain that is tangible!
And I created it!
I feel refreshed and cleansed.
I look down again to find that I've started on my left arm ...
Deeper ... Deeper ... DEEPER!!!!!
There.
I'm finished.
Hide the bloody tissue and tack.
Maybe I can finally get some rest ... inside this soul of mine.

A month or so later, I sit on my bed, in my room lit by one candle.
I make a clean slit with a razor I stole from my dad's tool kit.
The sweet kiss of pain as I push the cold metal down and to the
Left.
Over and over.
Why do you do this?
I'm trying to deal with my past.
This is my seventh cut and won't be my last.

this is one i worte because my ex told me he couldnt ever talk to me again because he didnt understand:
I'm not scared of the girl who likes him.
I'm scared of him.
I'm scared of how he'll be.
I'm not scared that he'll be mean.
I know he won't
And that's what scares me the most.
I'm scared of kindness
I have a phobia of people holding doors . . .
And the nice guys in my life
Aren't there anymore.
I know why I'm scared
It's 'cause I've been hurt
What I consider normal
Is rejection and abuse . . .
Look, I guess it's no use
To meet guys who are sweet
I get them to want ME
And I get them to leave.
I'm so scared of the nice guys
Because I don't believe what they see.
I don't believe this girl
Is actually ME.
I believe the abusers
I love what they see
And it just so happens
The one they see is ME.
ME is the fat girl
I see in the mirror
And the more I look at her
The more that I hate her.
I can't stand this ME
The one that I see
And the one that he sees
Is the one I can't be.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by suicidal_tendencies

i write what i feel, if you dont like it, dont read it, its that simple.

---

How would someone know if they like them..unless they read them?
If you read it and don't like it..how do you "unread" it? :D

smartass.... :thumb: :1orglaugh

:yeeaaahh: so i've been told :daisy: