The cuts are not for attention
They are a cry for help
But you would never care
You were too self absorbed
To see me self destructing

Just crying for help.
Dovey Aug 25

This disgusting me in a burst
Of unjustified, childish hurt
Shattered colors, tinkling as they crash

Confetti light dappling upon clear
Reflective surfaces which pierced
me, and I found myself broken by jagged glass


They say souls pulse with endless light
In a relentless, shocking rainbow of colors
Your soul is the one that gives me life
Yet it seems you’d rather live for others

But still, just allow me to stay by your side
And I’ll always have a reason to be alive

Even if I'm not your most important person, would you please let me live for you?
Dovey Aug 22

I swear I swear I swear it’d cause you so much less hurt
Every time I open my mouth, I seem to cause you to suffer
“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry” whats the point of those words
If I do it again?


Feeding a love off lies. “i swear I slept last night.”
Intend to tell you every time. “yeah I’m feeling fine.”

Wouldn’t it be better if I let myself be gone?
Because my existance seems to bring you pain
A better choice for me to be dead, y’know
And then you’d never feel this way

Would you?

Wouldn’t it be better if I never existed?
“i swear I’m doing so well”
Even if they managed to make me cry…
That’s just something I’d never tell

Would I?


I swear I swear I swear it’d be better if I was gone
Because my very mouth brings you pain
Wouldn’t I be better off dead?!
I hate myself so much for making you feel that way

The cuts stung as we held hands.
The hot car made us sweat
Burning my cuts
But I stayed quiet
You knew they were there
I could see it in your eyes
But I couldn't tell you why
You thought it was your fault
So I promised to stop
But I broke it
Cause you were never the reason why.

Joseph Aug 10

last night on the drive home a street sign waved hello.
the heat has come like a fever
it fries the nightlines in a humid soup
it drys your throat and chokes your eyeballs
oh fuck it burns the tiny cuts in your sweaty hands
you've a need to break a melon and drink.
you've a need to roast sugars and tell tall tales of distant frights.
what real horrors lurk there
beneath the surface like smoke?
a dream, a fever, a skittering nightmare
it will come it will pass and we will all freeze.

Dovey Aug 5

The creatures under my bed
slither up and under the sheets
they think it's a joke
to lay next to me
whisper in my ear
vile things while I sleep
infect my dreams and poison me

Hellish games are played at night with me and my thoughts.

It's really wanting to do things but not being able to
because all your energy has seeped down a drain
and you don't really care about anything
because everything is pointless
but you know that after you receive your marks,
you’ll cut again,

It's seeing the light beam and stretching out to hold it...
But it's too far away for your arms to reach,

It’s thinking that suicide is the kindest thing you could do for yourself
because life is just plain painful,

It's knowing how colorful the world is
but your eyes have been covered by a pair of grey glasses
that is glued to your face so you can't ever take it off nor see life’s colors,

It’s wanting to swim but telling your parents you don’t want to
just for the sake of them not seeing all the scars down your arm and thigh.
And later on? Even though I would love to swim, cutting is just too addicting to stop,

It's wanting to live and enjoy every moment to it's fullest
but your kaleidoscope has been broken by your own mind,

It’s using food to make you happy but hating how much weight
you're gaining so the self hate and self-harm never ends,

It's faking your smiles because if you didn't,
you'd be too negative for people to handle
which would then make them leave you... Abandon you,

It's wanting to lose hope so you could finally commit suicide
but at the same time it's hoping that you'll be okay one day,

It's wanting to scream how hurt you are
but finding no use in letting other people know
because you'll continue feeling the same way everyday anyways,

It’s hiding all your scars all the time so no one
would be able to stop you, pity you, or spread the word,

It's hating yourself so much that the amount of hate
you have towards yourself is suffocating you
and you can't ever love yourself because it's simply impossible,

It's wanting to punish yourself for everything bad you've ever done
by giving yourself a death sentence and scars
that just feel too heavenly to ever stop self-harm once it has started,

It’s being trapped inside your head with a bully
that endlessly torments you and your existence,
telling you how worthless you really are,

It’s being on the edge of impulsively killing yourself
almost everyday but at the same time,
you simply smile, sit and read a book
as though everything is completely fine,

It’s being always absent minded until
your parents have nicknamed you “absent minded”
because of how difficult it is for your to concentrate
or live in the present because you’re always someplace else,

It’s feeling that not cutting yourself is simply wrong
while trying to stay clean because you need to punish yourself
and it’s unfair if you don’t get punished for something wrong you've done,

It’s not being able to tell the “heart monster”
who’s squeezing your beating organ like a wet towel
in the palm of its sadistic deathly black hands to stop.
So it continues draining the blood and energy
out of your drumming broken holes
and whenever you’re feel fine,
it takes a shovel and digs out your sleeping heart
from its disturbed grave of a breathless chest
and repeats the torture process until you start wishing
you could just drown in your river of tears.

It’s wondering if you really want to chase your old dreams
because you don’t really care about them anymore.

It’s crying on little things and shocking your family
because that incident wasn’t really upsetting
and the tears fell only because you’ve been holding in the pain for days
and weren't able to keep it inside.
And if you were able to keep it inside a bit longer
then you would’ve waited until nighttime when they’re all asleep to break down.

It’s feeling guilty that you feel this way because others have it worse.

It’s also crying in school washrooms and coming out all smiley.

It’s feeling so numb that you just need to feel anything,
anything at all and guess what?
The blade comes to the rescue as usual and the pain it causes
feels incredible that you’ll find myself panting and needing more.

It’s being afraid of being happy because whenever you’re actually happy,
you’ll forget how depression feels like for awhile
and think that you’re finally okay…
But in awhile despondency creeps in and you'll find yourself
crying again before getting used to the feeling.

It’s feeling as empty as an oyster
that had it's pearl stolen
by blind eyes that needed your sight
and so now you’re blind to the light.

It’s being grateful for these brief fleeting moments of happiness
when the grey fog lifts and you realize that life isn’t that painful
and that everything will be okay because life is just rearranging its destinations.

It’s regretting not jumping off that cliff
or not slitting your wrist that day you almost did
and hating yourself so much for not dying.
For not letting go of all the agony and misery.
I wish I let myself go when I wasn’t thinking straight.

At first, it feels like being drunk on darkness
and as soon as you’d awoken from the previous night’s sleep,
you’d wonder what had happened to you?
Why were you thinking in such ways?
It was very grey.
But later a few months later…
Sleep does not ensure your sobriety in the morning
for you have lost all the world’s colours
due to dripping off a bit of color from your eyesight everyday
and so now the world has turned completely grey…
Hence you continue to awake everyday
drunk on the pain of the night before.

It's wishing you were never born in the first place.

And others can't understand why.

These words will never truly explain how painful depression is...

I can't even explain how lifeless depression can make a person feel.

It really does look like suicide is the best option.
Let me explain:
Deaths is as sweet as chocolate and Life's as spicy as chilli.
But if I love chilli, why do I want Death?
It’s because of how I ask for sweets when I'm sad
and this sadness seems to be going on for eternity.
Now do you understand why I want to die?
I Hope so.

And you might be wondering why I got addicted to self-harm
and it’s because I don’t only use it as a coping mechanism,
but also as a punishment because if I don’t hurt myself
then the guilt will follow me for days until I do it.
Self-harm can also be used as a motivational treat (It gives me a high)
for example telling myself that if I finish this section,
I'll get another cut and no I can’t use any other candy
because it does not feels as heavenly and relieving as cutting.
Self-harm can also simply act as a sexual release…
Maybe you don't get it but I’m a bit of a masochist.
Self-harm is like cake for me and you wouldn’t stop eating cake for life
just because it’s unhealthy!
No, you would continue eating it at least on special occasions.
Self-harm was my way of living for a year and I find it unrealistic to stop for life.

I wish you'd understand but I'd never wish for you to feel the same as I do.

And not every one struggling with depression feels the same.
This is my definition of depression.
But you know what?
I can't even explain how other people's depression feels like.

Depression: A disease that slowly kills your sanity just to enjoy watch you lose.

Bio:
A poem written about one self's life, personality traits, and ambitions.

its funny how surface level scrapes
can cut deep.
No wonder they do not bleed;
but Weep.

I slipped up.
I slit cuts.
I didn't mean to.
I drew blood.

I read online
When I was probably just 14 or 15 years old
That most people don't stop until their 20's
And it scared me
But I thought
"No, I'll stop right now"

But I didn't.
I couldn't.

I slipped up.
I slit cuts.
I didn't mean to.
I drew blood.

And now that I'm older
It hurts more to try to hide it
And now that I have people that care about me
Often times they don't understand why this part of my life is still relevant
And all I can say to make them understand is

I slipped up.
I slit cuts.
I just had to.
I drew blood.

She declared war upon herself in the midst of her savage self-hatred
Cutting her skin and suffocating her throat till she begged for air’s price.
She was once was a child afraid of just touching any sharp blade
Encase it accidentally cuts her and now: She doesn’t think twice

before picking up that blade and shoveling it into her skin like a smith.
She baked lies on her forgotten suicide note. Lies that disguised
themselves in coats of truth. She strangled her own chest with
ropes of words she didn't utter and blocked new hope from unsupervised

entering into her dejected lungs that begged for life's meaning not reprimands.
But she found no purpose to keep her garden living so she therefore
poisoned every plant and washed any seeds of life left in her sunless lands
down the drain until she fell into an everlasting sleep. Her wish for

peace had come to her but others wept on the loss of a friend, student, daughter, and one less hazed
family member. They never believed her when she said she wanted to commit suicide anyways.

Shakespearean:
A 14-line sonnet consisting of three quatrains of abab cdcd efef followed by a couplet, gg. Shakespearean sonnets generally use iambic pentameter.
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