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Jay May 4
Lemons into lemonade...
That's what they tell me.
It's so hard to make lemonade
When your wrists want to bleed.
The juice stings my flesh
And I just want to end.
The scars remain on my flesh
A reminder of my friend.
Pain is the only one I can tell
Nothing else is real.
Other people will spill and tell
The secret of how I feel.

Lemons into lamentation
That's all I have today-
Nothing but hopeless lamentation-
Until life stops dumping lemons on my tray.
J Apr 2
They never tell you how much the cuts burn

The way it feels like cigarettes being put out on every slit you’ve created

Arms, wrists, shoulders, legs all raging in a blaze of boiling red

You think you would get used to the sensation, now that the cuts have become habit

But even through the numbness, it always creeps up, burning
Beanie Dec 2020
The blade interrupts
a cool patch of thigh,
the way a shooting star
interrupts a constellation.

Streaking hot and bright,
drawing a line of red
across the already
marked up expanse.

A meteor shower follows,
one shooting star after another,
until a new constellation
forms from blood.
dark. sorry.
Estel Dec 2020
The tears on your cheeks
The cuts on your arms
The sadness

Why do this?
You can stop hurting yourself
You can stop the sadness
And yet…
You continue

It’s not that simple
I can’t stop the anger
The pain
I release it on myself
No one else gets hurt
Except me
What’s wrong with that?
I’m not important
I’m just a bad human
No one will ever love me
I’ve done more wrong than I can account for

I’m a disgrace to those around me
The fat on my body
The marks
The imperfections
I’m ugly
I’m stupid
I’m hated by everyone
It hurts...
But I deserve it

I hide my emotions so I don’t hurt others
And I try to make life more simple for them
Even if it makes it harder for me
I cry almost everyday
Why can’t I just **** up the pain?
I should be stronger
I shouldn’t want to leave this world
But…
I’m weak

I need someone to help me
But not my family…
They won’t believe me
And they’ll just get hurt
I wish I had a friend
One who understood my pain
And the want to keep it a secret…

I just have to push forward
And except my life
God please make it stop
Please help me be successful
Please give me something to look forward to each day
Please give me a level head
Please just give me someone to talk to that loves me…

My life is in your hands
Do what you will
Please just help me with life
I need you.
Jet Dec 2020
i remember being a child
i remember the ignorance
i remember the jump rope that whispered, “how do people’s knees just /hurt/“

i remember dreaming of digging mosquito bites out of my flesh, but never daring to

i remember peering through the cream-colored tissue paper and seeing the blue and green toned ribbon rivers flowing underneath, wanting so badly, so innately, to dam them, to disrupt them, to desecrate and destroy

i remember watching television without glasses, i remember seeing the movies, seeing the bad but handsome men, i remember wanting their scars, wanting my own, wanting to save the broken glass pieces of the broken glass picture frame (more than i even wanted to save the once precious drawing inside), wanting to remember every memory, every mistake

every time i thought of pain, i thought
how, why,
when


and now, i have a warm and wretched wedding ring made of my own marred and mangled mistake

put there by a hot, hollow heat

and that hell-fire put there by either me as a careless adult


or by the wishes i had as a child

to be

mysterious
interesting
and
hurt

to have abundant axiomatic afflictions
to be scuffed-up and broken-in
to be a well-loved leather wallet
to be an other
to be seen as damaged and dangerous

to say “keep away”
to say “i have lived and you have not”

and maybe one day,
to say, “that one looks just like mine”

and eagerly pull at my clothing
and carefully cull
desperate to reveal myself
and find camaraderie in unforgettable pain
Mikaela L Oct 2020
The first time I heard of cat cuts,
Was the first time I heard of gillette blades,
You carried one to defend yourself,
I searched the pockets of your tight jeans, Only to learn,
That some,
Some brave women,
Carry a handful.

I then looked at your bruises,
The red,
The scarred stripes on the back of your forearms,
I was disappointed,
I just didn't know,
About cat cuts & gillettes.
I once met this girl who used to cut herself. I asked her about the cuts on her arm and she said they were cat cuts. What's up with the stigma around MENTAL HEALTH?
Sarah Flynn Oct 2020
my skin
has housed sunburns
and scraped kneecaps.
it has carried
hair and goosebumps
and so many freckles
that I could never count.

my skin
has endured bruises
and cigarette burns.
its suffering is
the aftermath of
abuse, impulsivity,
and my own self-hatred.

my skin
has braved hot weather
and icy water.
it has protected me
from prickly thorns,
from strong winds,
and from myself.

despite the cruelty
that I inflicted
onto it,
this skin
held me together
even when I
felt like I was
falling apart.
Cuts, cuts everywhere
All over my hands, my wrists, my arms.
Bleeding, bleeding.

Thick dark drops of blood.
Blurring my vision, clouding my mind.
Oozing, oozing.

The cuts dig deeper
Into my soul, my shattered soul,
Bleeding, oozing.

Just one more cut to end it all
A deep cut, digging into my throat, to end it all
And my throat shall bleed with my last drops of blood.

No more cuts
No more cuts
No more oozing and bleeding
No more dark red smudges in my mind
Just black
and black
and black.
Pain. Suffering isn't it?
First, it will hurt you.
It's like tearing you slowly into pieces.
You would feel the emptiness running through
your veins until you slowly get used to it.
Your body has been warped
with drugs,
It's a battle with yourself
and there's no other way but to
find comfort in every slit you make.
Then you'd be drowning in slumber;
exhausted
weary,
numb,
hands dangling off at the edge of the bed
to let the monsters
know you are willing,
and there,
you'll find yourself in great relief.
You find your cuts
bleeding under your sleeves
and it makes you
fall
in love
with it.

You suffered
so much, yet
you are willing.
Terra Levez Sep 2020
When I got lemons from Life
They told me
to make lemonade
I tried and tried
But the yellow drink kept coming red
with my hands burning
from the cuts that Life left me with
Now burning with acid
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