Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2014
Drip, drip, drip
Goes my blood onto the sparkling white porcelain.
Blood pooling from my arm,
running down to my fingertips.
The velvety red liquid making me feel something for once,
in this cruel heartless world of ours.
The blood loss making me feel light,
giving me release from the pain I constantly live in.
Giving me escape from the real world.
The blood is running down the sink,
leaving a trail of bright red.
I watch it go down,
like my spirits.
I look into the mirror and look at what I see.
A scared, hurt, ugly little girl.
One who knows too much pain and judgement,
at such a young age.
Why is it that society tells us that we are stupid, ugly, fat and worthless?
Making us feel so pathetic,
that we turn to alcohol, drugs and self-harm.
I look at the girl staring back at me and I begin to sob.
I see every imperfection, because that's what society has taught me to see in myself.
I clean up my arm and the sink.
Turning on my computer, I see two things;
Girls trashing one another and calling each other *****,
and people saying not to listen to "The Haters", that it gets better.
Turning off the social media,
I turn my gaze to the window and I begin to think.
Why does it matter what anyone else thinks?
Why do I always feel like this?
Giving myself a headache,
I get up to go get some alive.
I see my hookah pin.
In and out goes the smoke through my lungs.
The smoke forms a pure white cloud around me and I'm enchanced.
It all looks so pure and beautiful,
yet it is so harmful.
Just like your words that you throw around.
And once you let go of them, you can't get them back.
You make people feel pathetic and worthless,
even though we are SO much more than your words.
We are people who have been put through HELL,
yet we are still here and fighting.
You of all people can't and won't bring me down.
Of course, that's what I always say.
And yet, I go to bed.
Knowing that even when I close my eyes,
the cycle of hell I live in will continue to fling me around.
And it will all just repeat,
Tomorrow.
Moral: Watch what you say to/call people. Your words DO cause damage.
Don't tell people it's gets better. It doesn't help anything. Just let them know you are there to listen to them if they get the urge to self-harm. Knowing they have someone who cares helps. Trust me.
Girls, lets all just stop calling each other ****** and *****. It sends guys the message that it is okay for them to do so, when we all know that it isn't.
Lastly; If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all. That includes posting it on social media for everyone to see. It humiliates you and the other person. Act like a mature human thing and go talk it out.
Jordan Cole
Written by
Jordan Cole  NC
(NC)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems