Tag Archives: write

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.

But now…

Hearing his voice use to give her a calming serenity, but now she can’t bare to hear his voice.

Looking at his face use to bring her joy, but now she doesn’t have the courage to look up.

Feeling his touch use to give her goosebumps, but now she pulls away from his grasp.

Kissing his lips use to give her butterflies in her stomach, but now she can’t help but to hurt deep down.

Holding him use to be the only thing she wanted, but now she can’t be anywhere near him.

Being close was the one thing she needed, but now she can’t be within 3 feet of him.

Loving him was easy, simple, and natural, but now loving him is painful, hard, and torturous.

Writing Prompts;

  1. Battery operated
  2. Family
  3. Suicide
  4. Star
  5. The remote’s gone
  6. The mystery gift
  7. I hate Christmas
  8. Teams
  9. Next year…
  10. Sticky tape
  11. He didn’t come
  12. Socks
  13. Secrets
  14. Too much
  15. In the closet
  16. So hot
  17. She didn’t?
  18. Until midnight
  19. The tree
  20. He is sober
  21. Too many people
  22. Online
  23. You won’t believe it
  24. #lessonlearnt
  25. Bless you
  26. Naughty
  27. The day after
  28. Water
  29. Puzzle pieces
  30. Feint
  31. 3, 2, 1…
  32. Heartbeat
  33. Wind
  34. Clarity
  35. Tweeted
  36. Holy
  37. The carpet
  38. Sculpted
  39. Dot, dot, dot
  40. No, you don’t
  41. Used tea bags
  42. Walk the dog
  43. It evaded me
  44. Water flowed
  45. The test results
  46. Just walk away
  47. Just another day
  48. Grass cuttings
  49. Her husband
  50. Rules change
  51. Hello
  52. You, again
  53. Distorted sounds
  54. Whispers
  55. Something was off
  56. Smoke
  57. Liar
  58. I have plans
  59. I turn the page
  60. In the fridge
  61. Her couch
  62. Unopened
  63. CD
  64. All gone
  65. Food
  66. Eye contact
  67. Dream-catcher
  68. Addict
  69. Dread
  70. Fear
  71. Shadow
  72. Sounds
  73. The sound of silence
  74. Insult
  75. Mirror, mirror
  76. Just say no
  77. Dear Diary
  78. Darkness
  79. Handle with care
  80. Name
  81. Where that place used to be
  82. Missing you
  83. Whispers
  84. Fairy tales
  85. Smile
  86. The Ex
  87. Fireworks
  88. Frozen
  89. Alone
  90. The promise
  91. Failure
  92. Mind and body
  93. What time is it?
  94. Clishe
  95. Complain
  96. I am..
  97. Oh so lonely
  98. Alphabetical
  99. Lair, lair
  100. Should, would could

Things That Make Her Happy

  • Getting through the day without eating.
  • Deep cuts that last a lifetime.
  • The feeling of all her scars.
  • The numbness on a dull body.
  • Feeling the warm blood drip down.
  • Putting the mental pain into physical.
  • The relief after one single cut.
  • Realizing she’ll never truly be happy.
  • Feeling the knife in her hand.
  • The demons that keep her company.
  • The feeling while the lighter burns.
  • Pencil sharpener blade on bare skin.
  • Finding new ways to become skinny.
  • The brightness of a new cut.
  • The blade getting through her skin.
  • Red hot metal on her skin.
  • Getting to peel off a scab.
  • Putting marks on her fresh skin.
  • Being able to breath after cutting.
  • Her stomach craving for some food.
  • The smoke filling up her lungs.
  • Grabbing onto a blade that cuts.
  • The beauty of bright red blood.
  • Tricking people with her fake smiles.
  • Drinking until she is finally numb.
  • Being able to deepen a cut.
  • Putting her body through the pain.
  • The beauty of fresh running blood.
  • Making sure blood doesn’t get everywhere.
  • Knowing it’s a good cut.
  • Watching the scale’s numbers go down.
  • Finding that her thighs don’t touch.
  • The beauty of pain she created.
  • The clarity of holding broken glass.
  • The feeling of breaking into flesh.
  • Seeing broken glass on the street.
  • Hiding fresh new cuts from everyone.
  • The burning sensation in the throat.
  • The salty taste of her tears.
  • Deepening the cuts on her thigh.
  • Feeling the cuts on her wrist.
  • Praying to feel some pain today.
  • Fitting into that perfect skinny outfit.
  • Noticing her scale numbers drop down.
  • Finally reaching her weekly weight goals.
  • Feeling free after cutting a few.
  • Not falling asleep to burn calories.
  • Being able to feel her bones.
  • Being able to see her bones.
  • Not being tempted by any foods.
  • Drinking tea and eating nothing else.
  • Feeling the pain after burning and cutting.
  • Being able to smile through pain.
  • Avoiding all people, especially eating people.
  • Making marks that cause bad pain.
  • Adding onto all the old scars.
  • People believing her that she’s okay.
  • Being able to ignore other’s eating.
  • Nobody noticing she’s cutting and burning.
  • Being able to say she succeeded.
  • The shininess of fresh red blood.
  • When she can keep everything clean.
  • Holding the light knife in hand.
  • Blood beads look like little diamonds.
  • The sparkles on the knife’s blade.
  • Feeling that it’s a deep cut.
  • After the fifth cut, she’s numb.
  • The depth of a new cut.
  • The tingles of a new cut.
  • Drinking until she forgets the pain.
  • Getting the nerve to cut deep.
  • Getting the nerve to burn skin.
  • Hot water on her frozen hands.
  • The beauty in holding her life.
  • Helping others to not feel pain.
  • Turning her mental pain into physical.
  • Creating artworks with knifes and skin.
  • Cutting creates a week of pain.
  • Marking body as much as mind.
  • Tingling after feeling the hot flame.

Skinny

How many pounds? How many inches?

How many calories? How many fats?

How many candies? How many veggies?

How many?.. How many?.. How many..?

 

The questions go through her head.

In the morning, afternoon, and night.

She’s always thinking about not eating.

If she eats, that’s another calorie.

 

That’s another gram of body fat.

Another outfit she can’t fit into.

Another outfit she has destroyed again.

That’s another number on the scale.

 

Her notebook is filled with thinspirations.

Skinny girls, skinny foods, skinny tips.

Notes about getting small and skinny.

 

Learning how to eat or not.

What to eat to burn calories.

What to do instead of eating.

What to do to burn calories.

 

Things to do instead of eating.

Drawing, writing, painting, reading, or coloring.

Napping, bathing, doing hair, painting nails.

Walking, running, doing yoga, or fitness.

Not eating is easier than tracking.

Tracking is hard, tiring, and consuming.

Not eating is easier than fitness.

Tracking is hard, boring, and draining.

 

If she gets through a day,

One, single, empty day without eating,

It’s considered a good successful day.

 

To be skinny she has to

Skip a meal, avoid all foods.

To be skinny she has to

Do something other than eating foods.

 

To be skinny she has to

Drink zero calorie, zero sugar tea.

To be skinny she has to

Pretend to not be starving inside.

 

To be skinny means she’s pretty.

To be skinny means she’s confident.

To be skinny means she’s strong.

To be skinny means she’s brave.

 

How many pounds until she’s perfect?

How many calories does to burn?

How many more candies to avoid?

How many?.. How many?.. How many?..

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.

 

The Weight

She sat outside in the dark.

Alone, with just her calming cigarettes.

And her music, listening to songs.

Songs that belonged to a playlist,

Called scars, a playlist she hears.

When she’s sad, depressed, and alone.

She stares up at the stars.

Stars that are her only light.

The ones that only care, listens.

Millions upon millions in the twilight.

But she still feels more alone.

The fresh cigarette smoke helps calm.

They’re her fresh air from sadness.

The sadness is heavy like rocks.

Rocks on her small, weak shoulders.

She doesn’t know what to do.

How to relieve the unbearable pain.

She wants to sit up straight,

But the weight is too much.

Her shoulders are sore, she’s sore.

The pain can’t be released alone.

But nobody is willing to help.

The weight’s too much for everyone.

She’s left alone to bear it,

Carrying throughout the days and nights.

The cigarette smoke helps her breath,

Underneath all the rock’s hard weight.

She doesn’t know how much longer,

How much more she can take.

She’s getting tired, worn out, weak.

Doesn’t know how to get out,

Out from underneath all the weight.

Childhood

She was a young, innocent child.

The whole world at her fingertips.

She’d be able to do anything

She’d want once she grew up.

He was a father figure, adult.

She was once his whole world.

He was someone she always respected.

He was someone she always loved.

She was sleeping in her bed,

Until one night he started visiting.

She was deep in her sleep.

She would be woken by touching.

He would come in and touch

In her bed, in surrounding darkness

He would rub her, kiss her.

He would grab her, abuse her.

She was sexually abused, alone, pained.

Nobody to turn to or help.

She didn’t know what to do.

She felt stuck, paralyzed, and broken.

He kept secrets, so did she.

Money and fear kept her quiet.

He paid for toys, books, clothing.

He hurt her body and mind.

She could get all the books.

Wear all the newest fashion styles,

She played with all the toys.

She got everything she asked for.

He didn’t want anyone to know,

Secrets he withheld from everyone possible.

He only told his little girl.

He didn’t care about her pain.

She carried his heavy secret alongside,

The secret weight thousands of pounds.

She couldn’t carry the secret anymore.

She couldn’t drop down from exhaustion.

He burdened her with him secret.

A secret he couldn’t have kept.

He would scare her into silence.

He would punch, choke, and slap.

She would cower, choke, and weep.

His hands were like sharp steal.

She would watch her skin swell.

She would wear marks and bruises.

He would make her body flinch.

One way or another, she’s silent.

He would hit her or touch.

He always stayed with her body.

She wanted to stop being strong.

To finally be able to drop,

She wanted to take a break,

She wanted to get some help.

They came on Saturday to help.

She was free, he was stopped.

They came to relieve her pain.

They came to help a child.

Monster

She was an innocent young girl.

Man she trusted was called Dad.

She loved and believed in Dad.

One night Dad decided to change.

Dad turned into a bedtime Monster.

She was scared, confused and innocent.

Monster didn’t only come during bedtime.

Monster was there during sunny days.

She was scared to be home.

Being alone meant Monster visit her.

Being at home without any protection.

Without anyone to protect her innocents.

She tried staying away a lot.

Not wanting to return back home.

Where she’s meant to feel safe.

Home was where Monster would wait.

She would try hiding from Monster.

But, Monster would always find her.

She couldn’t hide anywhere, Monster’s everywhere.

Monster would smell her out anywhere.

During the night she’d get caught.

Monster never slept, he would wait.

Wait until she couldn’t wait anymore.

Once and awhile, she’d get dreams.

Good dreams, her escape root away.

Far away, from pain and suffering.

But other times, she’d get nightmares.

Pulling her out of deep sleep.

By the strains of brown hair.

Pulling her brown eyes open wide.

She faced nightmares more than dreams.

When she’d wake up from nightmares.

Instead of light to comfort her.

There was darkness and Monster waiting.

Monster would stroke her young body.

Monster would rub her skin raw.

She would try to sleep again.

Tighten her eyes, compress herself secure.

Make him go back into darkness.

But Monster would continue causing pain.

Pain Monster carved into fresh skin.

The more craving the more hollow.

She became the hallow young body.

Body is a reminder of Monster.

Monster that came in the night.

Monster came into the bright days.

Monster that was once her Dad.

Purple Flower

She was a pretty purple flower.

Until he tore her silky petals.

He pulled off her wine leaves.

Then he took away her sun.

Finally he pulled out her roots.

He left her on the pavement.

She is bare, destroyed, and ugly.

People keep walking by not stopping.

Nobody wants to keep her anymore.

She is dried, ruined, and alone.