Warning- This poem contains graphic descriptions of suicide attempts and self harm.

I remember the days with my hands wrapped around my throat.
My wrists were cut up and my eyes were filled with tears.
I was only ten.
I never want to feel that way again.

I remember thinking I was better off dead.
I'd been almost a year since I'd cut myself,
but I sat thinking about suicide in the rain.
I was only eleven.
I never want to feel that way again.

I remember taking a ton of pills before school and sitting by the door with a belt around my neck.
I couldn't stop cutting, but I was feeling happy.
I was only twelve.
I never want to feel that way again.

I remember writing this poem.
I'd finished writing all of my suicide notes, with a plan to **** myself on a random Sunday.
I'd given up cutting and was on three antipsychotics.
I was only thirteen.
I'm ready to never feel this way again.

Warning-This poem contains graphic themes of suicide and self harm.

I find comfort in suicide.
When it's all your mind can think of,
it brings you comfort,
since it's just what you're used to.

I find comfort in train tracks.
It's the perfect place to slit my wrists with a razor,
while imagining getting run over by an oncoming train.
I can visualize my guts and blood covering the tracks,
as I walk along and can only hope death comes for me soon.

I find comfort in belts,
such a simple thing that's a problem for me,
because of the twelve times I've tried to hang myself with one.
Now I can't even close my doors.
"Can you keep yourself safe, Avery?"

I find comfort with my hands around my throat.
I gasp for air as I wait for my vision to go back.
My face turns purple.

I find comfort in the things you'd think would scare me.
Suicide brings me the relief that nothing else has given me.
Maybe if you knew what I've gone through,
you'd understand too.

Warning- This poem contains themes of depression and suicide.
Note-This is an older poem so it is a bit different from my other ones.

The skies are gray,
The curtains are closed.
My neighbors probably think
that no one is home.

I can't say I disagree,
I don't feel like me.
Maybe tomorrow
I won't be here anymore.

Sometimes I want to disappear,
So I just lay here,
practically in a sea of my own tears.
Thoughts cloud my mind,
Darker than the sky,
Cries and telling lies,
No one knows what's wrong with me.

I don't go to the doctor's,
But maybe soon the morgue.
Call the coroner,
Maybe they'll know what's wrong.

I think I know what's going on
But I don't think I can leave
This bottomless pit that has swallowed me.

Time feels empty,
but my mind is the opposite.
My heart is sinking
like an anchor on a boat in the sea.

My face is drenched with waterfalls;
Tears leave my eyes at a timeless pace.
All of this crying has stained my face.
My pillowcases are wet with sorrow.

I don't know how to live with such pain,
Yet I've gone so long.
But it's taken my life away,
It won't be long till I'm finally gone.

There's nothing more to say except the color gray.
It stains the day
And pains the way
That I can see colors.
It's been three years since I have seen sunshine,
A sweeter time.

When I was innocent,
And time came and went,
I could count seconds and minutes,
I felt I had no limits.
I could fly.

Now,
no matter how hard I try,
I am unable to fly.
My wings have been disabled,
Crooked with the passing of time
That of which I cannot sense.

I feel paralyzed
Like I'm trapped inside of an electric fence,
one with barbed wire that stabs my hands.
It makes me so tired to feel so trapped and unable to speak.

My body has broken down.
I've become weak.
All I can hope
is that the color gray
may not last another day.

Warning-This poem contains themes of self harm.
Note-This is one of my old poems so it is a bit different from my other ones.

Sometimes I hate the memories.
The fresh wounds are red and the scars are white.
They remain to remind me
How painful life used to be.

I can visualize the ****** razor in my hand,
And I can count scars,
One by one.
I can taste the metallic blood that's running down my aching wrist,
Running down my arm in watercolor strokes of maroon.

I can't keep my hands off blades,
And throughout my life I've cut away,
Just because I can't handle pain,
So I put it in a different form.
Where the memories and scars of it will remain.
I can feel the pain and imagine the blood stains on white carpets,
Trying to scrub away the mess of the pain I've caused myself.

Even though there's no longer pain,
The scars still remain.
And the memories,
The cuts,
Will never truly fade.

"This was all in God's plan."
But why did he plan for me to suffer so much?
I would've understood this better if I was older,
or if less had happened to me,
But your God isn't going to save me,

"God gives His hardest battles to the strongest soldiers."
But I'm not a soldier,
I was only a little kid.
Your God shouldn't expect me to struggle at such a young age.

"God loves you."
If God loved me he wouldn't have made me go through all of this ****.
And I'm not saying that life should be painless,
But it's cruel to give a little girl this much pain.
If your God loved me my life wouldn't be like this.

Warning: This poem contains subjects of ****/SA and may be triggering.


I can't believe the irony.
You claim to disagree with **** and ****** harassment,
But you speak no remorse for your actions of abuse against me.
You say what you did wasn't bad, but you weren't the one being ****** over day by day by the girl who was supposed to be my best friend.
You weren't the one being manipulated,
Yet you play the victim and talk about how you were molested later in life
But you never cared to take accountability and apologize to the person you put through the same misery you ended up going through after the fact,
And you never cared to think about what you did to me and what you put me through.

I know and understand that we were young,
But that's not an excuse to say you did nothing wrong.
You didn't just do this when we were little,
This wasn't just a one time thing,
You did it over and over again for four years.
It was a recurring event that happened every time you begged to come over, or begged for my mom to let us sleepover
So you could manipulate me and ***** me over even more, making me more trapped in your web of lies and deception.

I find it stupid that everyone seems to take your side instead of listening to what I have to say about this situation,
When there is proof of you being a narcissistic liar and everyone knows it,
Yet they can't believe a word I say no matter how much I say it.

I don't even mean for this to ruin your life,
even though you ruined mine.
You left me with flashbacks and self destructive patterns I've become used to.
You made my life a living hell.

I've heard that you think my scars are ugly,
But they aren't nearly as ugly as your hideous personality and your manipulative tendencies.
When I see your face or think of you it makes me sick,
Almost as sick as I feel remembering what you put me through,
Like making me touch you, making me make out with you.
I never even wanted to do that in the first place,
I knew we were too young,
I wonder what everyone would think if they knew you were a sexually abusive *****.

They say love is beautiful… But my love came with scars
Let me tell you about this boy I met.
But this—
This ain’t no love story.
This ain’t no flowers and butterflies and hug story.
Nah.
This one got fear inside.
Dark corners inside.

And I still can’t believe it.
How I let him break into my heart—
Brought fear.
Brought jealousy.
He Said he loved me…
But all he brought was sweet lies and misery.

And me?
I was crazy over love.
I believed anything.
And I don’t know why I didn’t stand up—
Because I’m strong-witted, right?
But when it came to that *****—
My armor fell.
My crown slipped.
And I handed him the throne.

I let him break me down.
Pulled my confidence to the ground.
And all my friends hated how I let him push me around.
I had a village—
But love had me deaf.
Turned their whispers into static
Just so I could worship his silence.

By the time it was over—
He wasn’t even human.
A demon in disguise.
And still, I stayed.
Delusion made me feel like
The universe spoke for him.

That ***** told me he loved me…
But he didn’t mean it.

And let me tell you why I’m mad—
‘Cause loving him was like signing a contract
Where my name was written in blood.

He broke my heart,
Threw me in the glass.
When he was done?
Picked me up—
And threw me in the trash.

And now,
Now this—
He can’t take back.

This the funny part—
But it ain’t really funny.
It’s just sad.
I still have all those scars
From being thrown through that glass—
But that’s what I needed.
To show me that love
Shouldn’t hurt.
That pain
Was what I needed to take my final step back.

I rose.
I finally chose
Peace
And not pain.

I wish the rain would pour down                                                             ­    and  flood this garden I'm forever tending                                                 Submerge  and deluge the ground                                                           release me from this chore, never ending                                        I've  been  relentless and loyal                                                            ­   shining  my  light until it went dim                                                            Had my hands ***** with this soil                                                         despite  repeated handwashing                                                      ­    I  have  yet to see us flourishing                                                      ­         we  can't grow in this sour ground                                                             No  matter how much nourishing                                                     our  love's leaves are dried and brown

Everyone always says that time heals wounds, but are wound ever really healed if they healed why do I still see the scars, why do I still feel the pain time does not heal wound it only buries it, but it will be dug up again.