I blanket myself within torment and pain,
Refusing to peek into the ever soft light.
I tear at my flesh with a blade,
Hoping that doing so would end my fright.
I cry myself to sleep using my tears as lullabies,
Only to sleep a nightmare filled never-ending slumber.
I wake forcing my limp body out of bed,
Knowing that by nightfall the sorrow that the day would bring,
Is the only thing that I'll care to remember.
here's the thing
about self mutilation
it kills me
gives me what i need
and here's the thing about self mutilation
the red neediness
the cold pane from windows
i'm covered in it
i'm covered in red
across my eyelids
dripping from the scar tissue
and scars to be made,
and next year and next year
how I've missed you
Starts with depression,
Then comes the self-mutilation
Then comes the day where you've finally had enough,
And you feel like your done,
And you want to leave this world,
With one quick cut.
I could cry but tears don't bring change
Trapped in my surroundings
Why did those words neighbor my thoughts?
I guess words don't make people listen
The people need action
I'm my own minds puppet
Exhausted but not Lackadaisical
Bruised from self-mutilation
WHY WON'T YOU SPEAK UP?
"to fall in love"
Is just a sign of being brainwashed
Is the human response to
fills the airways and is pure dementia
Only sadistic dumb fucks
Read a poem about self mutilation and respond
As I slit my wrists
the words keep bleedin’,
mixing with the tears
and recognized fears.
Those hurtful words
and ugly sayings. I
cut again and continue
bleedin’, away the hate,
anger and frustration.
Venting is my self
mutilation. there are
no scars to hide when
I am done, I just wipe
my tears as my sadness
fades and the dawn passes
to another day...
Ostensibly, cutting is the most romantic
and worthwhile thing to write about,
and self-mutilation for stupidity's sake
is mistaken by the shallow for depth.
The way cutters flock to each others'
vapid melodrama makes me think
that cutting would probably be
a wildly successful religion for tools.
Celebrate your self-created pain,
embrace your futile power plays.
When Mommy and Daddy notice at last,
you'll finally get all that undeserved attention.
Yesterday I cut myself, today I bleed tomorrow I die *
What are regrets, but a heavy load to this burden….
Yesterday I cut myself, today I bleed tomorrow I die…*
Actions of the past influence the present and affect the future
Yesterday I was on the verge of cutting myself, today I would’ve bleed to death, tomorrow I awake.
Dedicated to the emancipation of self mutilation.
The heart can deceive those who wish to understand it.
What A man's heart is fond of is his own reflection to be judged.
The self satisfaction of giving never to receive is A most praised lesson in greed.
Yet to starve oneself of one wants is an act of self mutilation indeed.
If attention is what one deserves then to seize it really an act of vanity,pride,envy?