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Bella Apr 2015
No longer memories,
just empty scenes in my mind
endlessly replaying
im ready to move on
these fragments of broken glass keep cutting me so deep,
rupturing my veins and spilling out my bones,
just let me go and let me be
i wanna get out
i wanna be free
its like a record player
stuck on repeat
im running in place
im running alone
I see new scars
on top of scars,
on top of scars
each time i look they multiply
each time i look i wanna tear my skin
piece by piece
take it away
because the more i learn to love myself
the more it hurts to see.
Amanda Woolums Apr 2015
It's been awhile since our last encounter;
When I laid you to my skin.
We used to be inseparable;
You always were there.
I ran to you when I couldn't handle
The pain I held inside.
My skin was your canvas,
For your ****** art.
I'm strong now,
That's why we've grown so far apart.
I've regained my strength,
From your wicked games.
My scars have become a reminder,
Of our last dance.
I have escaped from your grasp,
I'm finally free.
I've been clean for almost 2 months.
Isabelle Mar 2015
"It's been 72 days since I got rid of my razor,
but I still can't get rid of you.

The scars I made 72 days ago are slowly fading,
but you're still etched into my mind.

I haven't wet the bathroom floor with my blood in 72 days, but the thought of you wets my cheeks with tears.
I haven't broken the promise I made to myself 72 days ago,
but I still can't seem to realize that promise was only to myself.

I haven't destroyed my skin in 72 days,

But *******,

You sure did destroy my heart."

-Maybe you were my fatal addiction
no one Mar 2015
do you ever have the desire
to just cut
and
open your skin
and
watch yourself bleed?

not for any reason
not because you want to release
not because you need to cope
not because you are sad

but just because you want to.

it's in those moments,
when it's no longer a coping mechanism
when it's no longer a release
when there's no longer a reason

it's simply addiction



-k.l.
Levi Franco Mar 2015
My blood churns and swirls
As it goes down the drain.
It should hurt, it should sting
But I feel no pain.

Pleasure, warm and red leaves the cuts.
Out the slashes, comes the scars.
Self harm is not a trend.
Please, grow the **** up.
Reg Mar 2015
"Once is enough," He said
All truth has fled,
Though, he trusted me

Candle light and razors blades
Each branch, shingles and shades
"I know it's tough," He cried
In the darkness of a cherry tree,
she shied

"It's just a phase," they taunt
But, smiles they flaunt?
You think that's easy don't you
You think that I can do it too?
Go right ahead,
"Tomorrow," is said, yet I crawl in bed?

"I understand what you're going through,"
You think you're so funny, don't you?
I'm sick and tired of it...
Alan S Bailey Feb 2015
Her body calls to me like metal,
Like an air plane, like a pale cold beach,
Mid-morning dew right next to
The peach with blossoms and tea leaf.

The sharpest razor cuts into the neck,
It glides along slowly, shark in the dark,
I blink and try not to think of it's cold
Surface, like rose petals in a greying park.

It's a lost cause, but still I've gotten
Somewhere in ranks, the banners, the tanks,
All along the border the steely birds that prey
Are lined up, for the lost lives we give "thanks."

Building this wall, we've got to support some dream,
It's a popularity thing, it's about being disposable,
A quick fix in a time of uncertainty, of loyal dogs,
We look great spattered in red, this is encourage-able.

It's a fine line between do or die, we've just found
A way to make it seem like we are in the right,
Give the peaceful natives and hippies a "clue" of what is true,
We'll make "reasonable sacrifice," bring death with "Gods light."
I have a page on youtube with my piano music, to hear my songs that go with my poetry please visit: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL9tz9OI2eSLs9WxEY3gh_QfSn20GopR2U
Drake Brayer Jan 2015
The edge of that razor smarts. A tight pinch as it moves from hair to skin, breaking both with the ease of sin. Four blades of mighty steel glory, waging a war on the fields of my hollow cheeks. Old soldiers armed with nought but swords, old iron and ruined shields. That razor had been through a **** storm, been with me for so long. I could change it, replace its crude coarse blades, its worn and ragged handle. I could buy a machine so sleek that it would rend hair from skin and flesh from bone. But I like this grizzled construct of rough steel and chipped plastic. This ******* knew me as a stranger before he embraced me as a brother. I like him. Him and his manic chip toothed metal grin. I've got friends like him, not many still breathing but they count. Old broken things still ticking well past they're expiration date. I've got brothers in arms and brothers in caskets too. Strangers turned friends turned brethren and then dead again. I've seen too many faces fade from life to dust. It is not in god, but a razor's edge that I trust.
Ivy C Drape Jan 2015
What are you finding?
What do you see in me?
Why are you so in love with me?
Would you kiss these lips if you knew a razor had kissed my wrists?
Do you know what type of person you are fighting for?
All of these questions swirl around
Creating mini tornadoes in my mind
Wreaking havoc
Until
You take my arms
Put your lips against the scars
And tell me that I am beautiful
You tell me that you know about my love affair with depression
But you don't care you're willing to fight.

You know what you're fighting for
And you're willing to do everything in your power
To save me
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