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Izzy 13h
**** I messed it up
                                  I mess everything up

I'm a ******* failure
Estelle 1d
Unlike anyone else
A hair clip
Just for pain

The helpless heaping breaths
The hurt, weak self
The loneliness

Nobody will notice
It's my body
Where to keep thoughts

I will regret it
I don't like it
I will do it again

Some stop
Someone notice
Realize it

Velcro harshly sawing
Stuffed mouth
Burning lemon tea

Rushed band aids
No river
Have remorse

Just. For. Pain.
Estelle 1d
Should have payed attention to your cries when it was dark and the only thing heard was echoed pain

Could have taken the time to listen when you so obviously needed an open ear

Would have done it in a heartbeat if the knife didn't cut so far

Should have grieved harder when you fell, after all, it was from my kitchen

Could have visited the spot where you lay, covered in salted roses

Would have done it too, if I were my friend
i pull down my pants,
and then i pull down my skin,

and it seems as though there has been blood stains
since forever,

so when i look down and greet each thigh,
i have begun to greet the floor
as well...

in thinking that they would laugh, when
i trim myself in the mirror,
make cutting motions and
to slice open my skin and everyone else
who says i am
not worth it

but my curves are warm when they hug me,
and i think
i see a girl hiding
between their folds, in the dark...
but in her own body.

so when people look at me, i've learned now
to cower,
to put away my teeth, my hair,
my words of indignation,
turn into that tiny girl, where
i'm always safe, always small...
always alone.

where i am crucified, but loved,
hungry, but not wanting,  

but only for now.
my mom has always told me the story of two babies named love and wrestling... i am so so so proud of this poem
chloe 2d
Everyone says you are supposed to love your scars
They say it shows how strong you are
But the funny thing is that when I look at them
I see how long they have been there
The sad thing is they have been there longer than anybody ever has
I used to self-harm and struggle staying clean and while I was clean I wrote about my scars. Scars just show how strong you are.
I feel my self pull apart.
Rationality turns into darkness,
As I go on my searches.

One for sense. One for pain.
As the stars disappear
I give up on hope.

Look into the mirror. I see pain.
Look into my reflection,
I seek help.

Help which isn't there,
But I need.
For waiting and wandering shall never help.
As at least I'm alone.

No one can find me now.
This poem is abit out of my comfort zone, but I would love to know what you guys think! And how I could possibly improve.
Convulsed veins, strangled for air,
I gasp but nothing is there.
Each sharp breath,
Each sharp pain.
I grow closer
I grow closer to pain.

Weeping, wailing for more
She is gone, she is gone.
The breaths have ended.
The pain has last.
I try to fight
I try for life.

Each small cut
I release my soul.
Each small breath
I release more and more.
Deep, deep down
Dig as far as possible.
Release the pain
Release the soul.

I have become one,
I have become none.
I want to die
I want none.
It's just a cut,
A tiny scratch.
What’s that on your wrist?
Oh, it was just the cat.
It's just a cut,
Another lie.
Are you okay?
Yep, I'm fine!
It's just a cut,
Just some tears.
Another secret,
To keep from my peers.
It's just a cut,
I wont cry.
What's with the sleeves?
I'm just cold, why?
It's just a cut,
Another scar,
A cry for help.
Don't go too far.
It's just a cut,
All in my mind.
Just a mark on my skin,
I'll be fine! :)
I am what people expect me to be-
A paper crane in the never-ending rain,
A silk handkerchief folded into parts,
A broken vase with no flowers in it,
An elephant walking on a tightrope.
I ‘m what seems like soft edges,
But don’t make the mistake of believing that.

My paper skin cuts,
My silk finds its way to your neck,
My broken pieces are the reason I am whole,
And my weight only brings down people like you.
Don’t you ever make the mistake of thinking otherwise.

You haven’t seen the storm,
You haven’t witnessed the terror,
The horror,
The lives lost,
And the homes broken.

I have cultivated my being for years,
I am who I choose to be.
J 6d
Kms means **** myself
Except it doesn't
It means this *****
So when I say kms
Just know that I'm suffering
But I don't actually wanna die
Because when I do
I keep it in
And it'll go away
That's an acronym I'd use
It means cut myself
And when I say that
I actually mean it
Like now
Or 2 nights ago
Or 2 weeks ago
Each time a new spot
But a spot no one can see
My hips
My stomach
The skin under my *****
It's a habit I can't break
An addiction I can't go to rehab for
I'm fine
I promise.
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