These cuts I make
Are small compared to my real pain
My wounds go deeper
Than any blade can cut
And they leave bigger marks
Than the simple scars
Blood flows out of my wounds
Yet I live on
My heart still pounds its steady beat
Even as I scream
My heart cries out for help
As do my lips
I will continue to cut and cry
Until at last I die

How can I still breathe?
How do I still walk?

I go home

Grab Mom's knife

Slit

Crying, I hide the remains of my mangled wrist

Days go by like nobody cares
Nobody talks
Nobody loves

My Mom is home

An audience

As I grab the knife, she screams
All breathing stops
I lay on the floor

My Mom picks up the phone

The blood is draining
My life is fading

As moments go by

The radio plays

"All You Need is Love"

Do you know the power for your words?
How they break my heart.
Do you know I can’t see beyond those scars?
That words that might not have been spoken in hurt,
Have cut me far too hard.
And the hole burned in my side,
Won’t heal in time.

I'll act as though this pen is a sword
and carve the words on the blank page before me
until my fingertips bleed the truth
begging to be set free from my wounds deep within.

just a cut
just a scratch
"what's that mark"?
"it was the cat"
just an excuse
just a lie
"whats with all the bracelets?"
"just fashion why?"
just a tear
just a scream
"why are you crying?"
"just a bad dream"
But it's not just a cut or a tear, or a lie
it always "just one more until you die"
(n.t.)