Scratched the surface,
of the voices,
wordless torture and painless punches.
Scratching screeches,
silent screams.
Silenced violence,
the scratch grew.
Is it blood?
Is this still you?
Bruised and burning,
and nursing depression.
First it's the screaming,
the drums on my ears,
the lesser I feel,
the less I can hear.
Just a small scratch,
it won't kill.
Yet the voices inside?
They certainly
will--
All feedback is welcome
thirstiness
lost appetite
nausea
vomiting
diarrhea
lethargy
coma
cardiac arrest


Hmmm...

Sounds better than the alternative

Doesn't it?
Help me!
I'm dying!
I'm bleeding.
I'm bleeding out!

Help me!
I'm trying!
I'm lifting.
I'm lifting off!

My levity leads
My passion to answers
I'd never.
I'd never!

Mangled my flesh myself
Make me higher make
Me something.
Something else!

Left on my own
My own devices
Will I push the knife
Into my heart
Right through

Doctor, my hands want to kill me
So, keep me from trying
Doctor, I'm begging

Heal me and make me
Someone else!
is pain the rush in your heart
as the blade runs across your arm?
is it the agony in your wrist
through the moments of fleeting calm?
the aches, the breaks, the shakes
are these examples of harm?

pain is the rush in your heart
when you see him convulsing
it is the hurt in your soul
when he now hates you, your tears pulsing
the lies, the cries, the whys
its all my own fault
i wish i could repent
Indigo Apr 18
You are self aware that love is your way of saving a life.

Remember the ex who was suicidal
Then the one with father issues
The one with loneliness the size of the sky
The one with a thousand scars on his arm
That one who was an introvert
The one who was an addict
The one who had depression for breakfast
And the one who loved self harm

Who saves you when realize you don't know how to love?
All that was empathy
All that was sympathy

All these boys you wished to save
But never did
All these boys you wished to save
But left in the end
All these boys you wished to save
But killed instead.
This is not a poem in the true sense of the word, but rather expressing feelings and thoughts that haunt my head during this time of my life.. And that is the essence of poetry i believe.
Emily Apr 17
My past is defined in one word.
Miserable.
The only word that comes to mind
of a little girl holding onto
the same porcelain lid
for a year and a half.

The same jacket she wore to cover
the scars on her arm.
The pocket knife she hid so no one
was suspicious.

She was quiet, didn't like hugs
anymore.
If you ever asked her she
would reply
"i'm fine".

But she really wasn't.
She was miserable.

Her mirror whispering
harsh nothings in her ear about all
her flaws, that she
needed to change.

That no one would love her
if she stayed the way she
was.

That was her life back then.
Miserable
I went through a lot of stuff and still do to this day. It's family and friends that help me through it and show that I am cared for and perfect just the way I am.
Pure Bliss Apr 16
You've tried to be happy,

But you cannot do it,

The darkness is just too dark,

You talk and talk,

But all it does is makes depression worse,

You’ve tried to be with people that you love and that love you,

But that gets to overwhelming,

So you keep in the pain,

All it does is make others worry

People ask why are you in so much pain,

They say they can help,

But when you cannot help yourself how can others help you?



After a while all your pain turns to anger,

You cannot help but yell and say things that you do not mean to say,

When you want the help that others have offered to you,

But you are afraid to ask,

So you still keep all the pain in! As time goes on, you have more pain, more anger,

Now you cannot take life on any more,

So you write a very long letter to all that have tried to help,

Fold it neatly, and put a heart on it,

You go into your room and hang yourself,

Now your pain is gone,

But what about everyone else,

Did you think how they would feel?



Sure you were hurting,

Yes you were depressed,

But now your mom doesn't speak, only cries,

Your dad asks himself a billion times a day "What did i do wrong,"

Your little sister doesn't eat, sleep, and doesn't want to go to school,

All your friends; God bless them,

They knew the pain you were going through,

They know the pain that your family is going through,

So they try their best to help your family,

And also to help one another,

Your girlfriend cuts now, will not eat now, and will never date again!



You've hurt so many people,

Just because you could not handle the darkness with in,

And now that you are gone,

Your friends cannot take the pain,

So they quit talking to one another,

Your mom has a drinking problem,

Your dad does drugs,

And your sweet little innocent sister,

Watching your family wither away to nothing!
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