Tag Archives: cutting

Cutting

pain is too hard to carry. pain in your mind, destroying it. pain in your heart, hurting you. pain you can’t get rid of. pain that will keep piling on. pain holding onto you with claws. pain unwilling to let you go. pain keeping a too tight grip.

pushing the blade into fresh skin. pushing so much red rises up. pushing so much it starts tingling. pushing until the pain becomes numb. push down, cut deeply, move swiftly. pushing to numb everything deep inside. pushing until you’re unable to feel.

finally you’re able to breath again. finally everything becomes a little clearer. finally you have a clean mind. finally breathing isn’t a heavy chore. finally you can show a smile. finally you can be you again.

Friday Night Cutting

She started cutting that Friday night.

She could have asked for help,

She was talking to someone on Facebook,

But she decided not to ask.

She told him she was tired,

She had an energy burning day.

She said goodnight, and signed off.

But she should have stayed online.

She went up to her bedroom.

She changed into her comfy clothes.

She climbed into bed, sat there.

But she wasn’t alone in bed.

She brought an old beautiful friend.

She laid it down on her.

She pushed it into her skin.

But with a singular quick movement,

She was bleeding again, something forgotten.

She hasn’t done this so long.

She wanted to desperately remember again.

But her skin didn’t want to.

She couldn’t stop the red tears.

She couldn’t stop the radiating warmth.

She couldn’t stop the red diamonds.

But it eventually stopped. For now.

Broken Glass

Middle​ ​school​ ​girl​ ​with​ ​broken​ ​glass.

Glass​ ​she​ ​found​ ​behind​ ​her​ ​school,

Along​ ​the​ ​ground​ ​mixed​ ​in​ ​rocks.

Unclean,​ ​broken,​ ​shards​ ​of​ ​glass.

Raggedy,​ ​broken,​ ​torn​ ​fresh​ ​skin.

She​ ​didn’t​ ​know​ ​what​ ​she’s​ ​doing.

Willingly​ ​following​ ​a​ ​friend’s​ ​steps​ ​forward,

Forward​ ​into​ ​a​ ​deep​ ​dark​ ​hole.

A​ ​hole​ ​with​ ​scars​ ​and​ ​cuts.

Blade​ ​of​ ​a​ ​new​ ​pencil​ ​sharpener.

Blunt​ ​end​ ​of​ ​a​ ​pocket​ ​knife.

Broken​ ​glass​ ​found​ ​on​ ​the​ ​street.

Deep,​ ​shallow.​ ​Thick,​ ​thin.​ ​Scars,​ ​cut.

She​ ​was​ ​scared​ ​at​ ​first​ ​cut.

But​ ​she​ ​soon​ ​realized​ ​it​ ​helped,

She​ ​was​ ​able​ ​to​ ​numb​ ​pain.

She​ ​numbed​ ​the​ ​emotional​ ​daily​ ​pain.

The​ ​lies​ ​her​ ​brain​ ​would​ ​tell.

The​ ​stories​ ​her​ ​thoughts​ ​would​ ​create.

The​ ​whispers​ ​her​ ​ears​ ​would​ ​hear.

The​ ​other’s​ ​thoughts​ ​she’d​ ​listen​ ​to.

She​ ​was​ ​able​ ​to​ ​numb​ ​pain.

Easy​ ​to​ ​numb​ ​emotional​ ​pain,​ ​also,

Easy​ ​to​ ​numb​ ​the​ ​mental​ ​pain.

She​ ​numbed​ ​the​ ​mental​ ​daily​ ​pain.

The​ ​thoughts​ ​her​ ​mind​ ​would​ ​explore.

The​ ​images​ ​her​ ​imagination​ ​would​ ​create.

The​ ​dreams​ ​her​ ​sleep​ ​would​ ​show.

The​ ​ideas​ ​her​ ​brain​ ​would​ ​brainstorm.

Her​ ​small​ ​shards​ ​of​ ​broken​ ​glass,

Her​ ​sharp​ ​blade​ ​of​ ​pencil​ ​sharpeners,

Her​ ​dull​ ​blade​ ​of​ ​pocket​ ​knife.

To​ ​quiet​ ​her​ ​brain,​ ​thoughts,​ ​ears,

Her​ ​mind,​ ​imagination,​ ​and​ ​sleep.

She’d​ ​guide​ ​the​ ​blade,​ ​glass,​ ​knife

Across​ ​her​ ​arm​ ​and​ ​push​ ​down.

Looking​ ​for​ ​broken​ ​skin​ ​and​ ​blood.

The​ ​cuts​ ​hurt​ ​her​ ​at​ ​first,

But​ ​then​ ​became​ ​a​ ​tickle​ ​sensation.

Then​ ​became​ ​a​ ​numb​ ​gliding​ ​feeling.

Middle​ ​school​ ​girl​ ​became​ ​broken​ ​glass.

Glass​ ​she​ ​became​ ​behind​ ​her​ ​school,

Along​ ​the​ ​ground​ ​mixed​ ​in​ ​blood.

Unclean,​ ​broken​ ​shards​ ​of​ ​glass.

Raggedy,​ ​broken,​ ​torn​ ​fresh​ ​skin.