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Pauline Morris Apr 2016
I pick up my razor, I put it back down
Like a tethered race horse, I'm pacing around
My pain is overwhelming
It just keeps swelling
I could slice it away
That's the direction I sway
Thin little lines all in a row
Just to let all the pain go
I need the sweet release
It'll come with such ease
I'm ready for the blow
The warm liquid flow
Please forgive me
Please don't look, don't see
I was to weak
The blade I seek
Jack Jenkins Apr 2016
Slice slice slice
All over my arm.
Slash slash slash
All over my thighs
Cut cut cut
All over my hips

Making Roman numerals all over my skin
Hoping it will silence the voices within
Letting the blood run down and around
Hoping agony will drown and run aground.

My skin will mend
My bleeding will stop
But scars will remain
Penned onto my heart.
I, myself, do not cut or inflict self-harm. But after meeting so many people who do, I wrote this for them in January of 2016. It's my tribute, my love for those who do.
Josie West Apr 2016
they say it is a cry for attention
but the steel kiss of razor blade
against her fiercely fragile skin
is the only attention she craves
:(((((( more rambles
Lost Mar 2016
There is a feeling I love.
A feeling I can't deny is my favorite.
Some may call it dangerous,
some,
may call it childish.
By I,
can't help
how much
I love it.
If you've never had a katana or held one, you don't know the feeling of true power.
Pauline Morris Mar 2016
Awake all night
Till the morning light
Touches the morning sky
Guess I'll open my shades
Thoughts in my head heavily weighed
And I'm afraid I picked up the blade
The voices in my brain did shout
Cut it out, cut it out

And so I tried
I almost died
The blade I swung
Boold it flung

But again it faild
It was all to no avail
I did all thats was curtailed
But it still derailed
And I'm still here to inhale
And it's still inside..... exhale
Cody Haag Mar 2016
Blood stains—it taunts as well—
Sings Our Tale—of long farewell—
Inspires art—brings Us to hell—
Blade in hand—We understand—Death's plan—

Dark scythe sweeps across head—
Takes me Under the Ground—
Words unsaid—live forever—Deafening Sound—
Sweeps across this barren town—
I tried writing in the style of Emily Dickinson. :) Not that good, but alas, I tried.
Pauline Morris Feb 2016
Self mutilation
Tattooed invitation
Thoughts confused
A razors used
Skin engraved
Scars won't fade
Mind unwind
Blood divine
Pauline Morris Jan 2016
I'm standing on the ledge again
How did it all begin
I was minding my own business
But it struck with such quickness
Where did that razor come from
I'm afraid I might succumb
It was like magic it just appeared
The temptation to pick it up is something to be feared
Because if I do I'll slice from ear to ear.
I wish I could use a time machine and take back each scar I left on my vulnerable skin.
Instead of self mutilating, I would take my blade to your skin and mark it as a reminder of all the times you ripped me apart.
I would cut your heart out of your body and hold it in my hand, not to love and caress but rather to crush it like you did to mine.
I would suffocate you with my ‘fat body’ watching your eyes beg for my sympathy until you have no air to breathe.
And just as you are about to taste the sweet taste of death, I would mercilessly cut off your pride and joy which is just as little as the respect I have for you.
and I have no respect for you…
The End.
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