I look at the mirror
Completely disgusted
My face is too clear
It should be busted
So I punch my cheeks
And yank out my hair
One of my many self-harm streaks
Should I even dare?
A pair of scissors
Right below my fingers
Should I pick it up
And if I do, where should I cut?
I look around my body
And find my arms empty
Of much needed punishment
So I attempt to cut my flesh
But I couldn't bring myself
To break through my skin
So I put the scissors back in
And cried again
Begging for some kind of help
But I never got it
And I never will
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 2:10 PM UTC
I look at the mirror
Completely disgusted
My face is too clear
It should be busted
So I punch my cheeks
And yank out my hair
One of my many self-harm streaks
Should I even dare?
A pair of scissors
Right below my fingers
Should I pick it up
And if I do, where should I cut?
I look around my body
And find my arms empty
Of much needed punishment
So I attempt to cut my flesh
But I couldn't bring myself
To break through my skin
So I put the scissors back in
And cried again
Begging for some kind of help
But I never got it
And I never will
A poem about depression and the urge to punish yourself.
