Poetry has become my self harm,
I only write at my lows...
Instead of blood I see words,
Instead of a blade I have a keyboard...

I want to write about...
The wind dancing with the sea...
Or...
The way you smile and it lights up your innocent face...

I don't want poetry to be my self harm,
Because poetry is beautiful...
An art...
Not.
Just.
Blood.
And.
Scars.

there's nothing romantic about
stinging, shaking legs
and a still silence
surrounding lovers that creates
screams in their heads --
where did i go wrong
i'm such an idiot
there's nothing beautiful
about blood and self-loathing,
insecurities and guilt.
there's no turning around.
there's only moving forward.
and maybe they'll both be different,
but they'll probably stay the same.
and there's nothing --
nothing --
pretty about that.

self harm takes many forms
from wrist lined in white
to burns on thighs

but i learned
it's much more than that
it's holding everything in
it's those negative thoughts i think
it's when I bite my inner lip
to remind myself that
any day,
i could decide i don't want to live

self harm is
so much more
than those white lines
or burn marks.

-r.y.s

I understand the cutter.
Loving you is
My self-harm.

The tale of a girl
The tale of a shy girl
The tale of a sweet shy girl
Her parents didn't see that
Every day she came to school with at least 2 or 3 new bruises or scars
At first I didn't put mind to it
Until she invited me over

She and I were close friends
So she allowed me to read her diary
Her secrets were in my hand
I read it over and over to make sense of it
It didn't make sense

Her mother came in with a knife not knowing I came over
Because she got permission from her dad
She said, "Time for your daily scars!!!!!"
She saw me and hid the knife
But I knew what was going on

We were friends after of course
Inseparable
But one day she didn't come to school...
And I never saw her again...
Realizing she was gone forever was awful
I didn't know what to think

Her mom and dad got divorced
Her mom got arrested
I got interviewed
I still have her diary

I have a best friend, his name is Nobody
Nobody likes me
Nobody cares for me
Nobody notices me
Nobody hugs me when I feel down
Nobody helps me
Nobody talks to me
Nobody loves me
Nobody wants me
I love Nobody too