Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Tried to explain my psyche via Charles Bukowski.
Penned a list that included being up all night,
plus the lack of humanity endured while working.
But concluded the result was mere petulance -
probably because my next mood sank deeper.

This country has a sickness that shackles
the joys of life. Felt its hands strangle me.
Fingerprints are still molded in my clay brain.
Words reach me from below Finnish lakes,
countryside estates and snapped smiling faces.

Can't explain the stories I've been told,
only share what it means to lose all hope.
Could disguise this inside a metaphor
but for what? In order to see the light,
we must shine it on every naked limb.

Hopelessness, then, is searching for that
very word on Google as your love sleeps.
Feeling your heart rejoice and concave
simultaneously when the text describes
everything you've kept inside for x days.

Sometimes in the lonely dead of night.
Sometimes noon stays by your side.
Energy burns that a good run can't fix.
After splitting living rooms, its the wrist.
Tough to admit but these thoughts exist.

Now you know all this, please forgive me
should I despair when hearing it repeated.
Or write this down when nothing is hinted.
If this triggers problems deeper-rooted...

I'll delete it.
Poem #26 from my collection 'A Shropshire Grad'. There's a lot of dark subject matter in this poem but I feel like it needs to be expressed otherwise we won't fix the problem of suicide.
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.
Osii 6d
With time our wounds heal
But our scars remain the same
They're reminders of how we feel
When we take on all the blame
be kind to yourself.
Henri Coetzee Sep 21
A friend once told a girl I liked that I was obsessed with death
and I yelled and screamed as I denied it but it must have
too much for her as she walked away and never talked to me again
that night I punched the wall till my hand bled
it was that or the knife
that’s a lie I never cut myself why would I write that?
I was probably looking for attention that’s what they say isn’t it
it’s only for attention not because I don’t know how to feel
or how to deal with my emotions not because
I can’t talk to my friends
I’ll never say how much it hurts and so they’ll never know
Sometimes they do know though and they ask and I lie
Saying everything is fine when I just wait for them
to go so I can cry
but I’m just looking for attention so what do I know
now I wonder if my friend was right
the day he told a girl I liked that
I was obsessed with death truth be told
the thought of death does bring me comfort
Not suicide gods no but the idea of an
eternal sleep free of anxiety or emotions
to trouble me does seem quite tempting
and now I write poems about my emotions
trying to put into words what I don’t understand
and hoping someone relates
truth is I never liked that girl all that much
and my heart is dead but not quite
and life is grand I mean horrible and  
love is everything but also a lie and this poem
is like my mind:
a chaotic cacophony of thoughts and feelings all mixed into one.
First time I've ever written in this style, it was fun
Floor Sep 20
Cut
It happened
And happened some more
Until the blood started to pour
And my weak body fell to the floor
I felt sad down to the core
About these silver scars I wore
On selfharm
Mackenzy Sep 20
Getting shoved into lockers
“We were just messing around”

Pushed off the playground
“I was just playing”

Crumpled paper waiting
In my backpack,
Everyone would be better with
You gone.
“It was just a joke”

Freak, Stupid,
Loser.
“It’s just a name”

It’s just some kids being kids.

Just until someone cuts,
“You’re not going to be pretty anymore”

Just until someone ties
a rope around their neck,
“Why would you do that?”

Just until you're at their funeral,
No one knowing why they died.

It’s one big just when
Nobody cares until it’s too late.
Ashanta Sep 17
And then in a single night,
Everything,
The pain, the anger, the fears,
The sadness, the tears.
Just came crashing down.

And then you ask yourself,
That's all it took?
A single night? A single moment?
But there was nothing,
Just a big empty space and nothing in between.
I was going so great, a year plus clean of self harm, until this exact night.
Kole J McNeil Sep 16
When I'm gone.

Will the grave you bury me in be deeper that wounds I gave myself?

Will the light I once loved warm the ground where I lay?

Will the sunlight reach my cold body, laying rotten and forgotten in the ground?

Will You visit me?

Will you leave flowers at my grave?

Will you pretend to love me now I'm gone?

Will you say nice things about me?

Will the hole I now reside in be deeper than the hole in my heart that was left by those who claimed to love me?

Will the rivers run red of the blood I bled?

Will my body stay in the coffin or will it burn in hell with my soul?

Will I be forgotten like all the letters I sent you?

Will i be forgotten like blade that ran across my skin?

Will you bury me with the thing that gave me a reminder I was alive but also took that life in a second?

When I'm gone I will sew a blanket with the lies you have told me.

When I'm gone I will reap the soil with the blood of those who wronged me.

I will be justice.

I will be death
thoughts in my head clouding my sight
my anxieties keeping me up at night
constantly thinking you’re not on my side
thinking that all my demons will collide

there’s something in the water i drink
i know this because i fear what i think
you tell me i’m crazy and that we’re okay
are you tired of reminding me everyday

i spin further away from my truth
i dive deeper into the pain of my youth
digging and searching for some peace
but these voices in my head don’t cease

i remember the rush the joy the ache
knowing there was something at stake
self harm my absolute longest lost friend
i hope that we never ever meet again
Kole J McNeil Sep 15
Hi i say

wait was that right
is that to informal
is it to formal
stop talking
your embarrassing yourself

How was your day?
No thats not right
ask them how they are
ask them if they are happy

"How are you?" they ask

Say fine
do they actully care
why are they talking to you
why are you standing there

"time to leave!"

Do you have your wallet
where is your mask
why do you look like that

(kids laghing in the hallway)

They are laghing at you
you should change
why do you dress like that

"bed time"

Did you trun off the light
did you brush your teeth
make sure you check under your bed 3 times
make sure the light is actually off
go check again

"hey how was you day. I'm so tired."

text back
but wait a secon
dont let them think your despreat to talk to them
wait do they actully want to talk to you

"Hello???..."
...
...
...

"good night"

Why didn't you respond
no they didn't want to talk to you anyway
go to sleep

(starts screaming)

wakes up in a cold sweat
you shouldn't have called your teacher mum in 3rd grade
why did you
re think that conversation

Looks at the blade

Don't do it
your freinds will worry
no they won't
they don't care

Pulls balde across

no  more pain

Good bye
always anxious
Next page