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Kaiden Jul 25
It's been 4 years.
Over time it went from "just this once" to "deeper" and i really dont know how to quit tbh
Kai Jul 24
The candle keeps flickering
Every time we bicker
It goes out
The flame
I keep having to relight the candle
Then keep going about
Its always the same

• We fight
• I relight the candle with the scarce light

The room used to be so bright with the light
When it would approach midnight
It'll look like the sun is out and about
But now, I can barely see a thing
Not even the biggest thing
Letting the shadows come out to play

I try my best
To fight back at the painful test
After the arguments
I look back at the room that's dimlit
My gaze fixed on the candle
The darkness around it is one I can't handle
Blood is constantly covering the candle
To simply relight the candle
Yet the flame won't spark

There's no point
There's no point.
The only thing I can do now is wait
Wait and watch the shadows come closer
To look at me like I'm prey
While you relax and watch
ahhh I love my will to live flickering away
eliana Jul 18
Be brave.
You already are.
Look at what you've made it through.
The wounds of your past have healed.
The seemingly endless chapter has ended,
And those bruises have faded.
The battle, you survived,
And you are still here.
Be brave.
this poem  is about my battle scars. I hope it gives the people who have cut or are still cutting inspiration
silence Jul 17
A paper cut, a minor fray,

A reason to bleed, to hurt, to sway,

From the pain of everyday life,

A desperate attempt to take control, to thrive.
A broken glass, a spilled cup of tea,

A justification to cut, to set me free,

From the anguish that I couldn't define,

A misguided attempt to soothe my mind.
But with each cut, a scar would remain,

A constant reminder of the pain,

A symbol of the struggles I couldn't face,

A cry for help, a desperate, silent pace.
One day, I hit rock bottom, it's true,

I realized that I didn't have to hurt anew,

I sought help, I found a guiding light,

Therapists, a friend, a beacon in the night.
With time, with patience, with love and care,

I learned to cope, to heal, to repair,

The wounds that I had inflicted on my skin,

The scars that would remain, a reminder to begin.
I learned to breathe, to meditate, to calm,

To find solace in the present, to let go of the balm,

I discovered that I was stronger than I thought,

That I could face my fears, my doubts, my faults.
The minor inconveniences still came and went,

But I no longer let them dictate my intent,

I chose to rise above, to find a way,

To heal, to grow, to seize a brand new day.
My scars will always be a part of me,

A reminder of the journey I've been through, you see,

But they no longer define me, no longer control,

I am free, I am healed, I am whole.
It does get better.
Lostling Jul 18
Roses are red
And so is my blood
You made cuts romantic
But it’s not called love
I hate when it’s romanticized, like what do you mean it’s an “aesthetic”???
#sh
Ellie Jul 11
TW : references to triggering topics below

My art is not considered normal
It’s made of fine lines
The lines form rows
They tell a story
Of whom I once was
During the tears
Those tears not only lasted for year but also still last
My fine lined art has recently come to a end
Or more of a rest
Because it may start again
My fine lined art is not art
But a way to cope
A way to breathe
Yet my skin bleeds whenever I draw those lines
The fine lines are considered ugly
To the eyes of society
they will leave scars forever
But my scars are not ugly they tell a story
Of my fine lined art.
Anna Jul 10
I feel like a stranger in my own skin,
like a paper marked by hands that shouldn’t have been.
You painted on me with borrowed strokes,
colors I never asked for, lines I never spoke.

I tried to erase it all,
scrubbed until I bled.
But no matter how I try,
the red remains instead.

Why do I feel this shame,
when none of it was mine to claim?
Or is that just another lie—
one you left behind in my name?

Go on, throw another shade,
brush another lie across my frame.
Add one more mark on my arm—
pretend you never meant me harm.

Are you satisfied now?
Does silence taste sweet?
Is it peace you feel,
or just a hollow retreat?

The stains, they never fade,
they follow me—like ghosts that stayed.
I feel ***** in a way soap can’t cleanse,
not even the rain makes any sense.

I hope the paint on your hands never dries,
I hope guilt sleeps where your comfort lies.
And when you close your eyes,
may my tears echo in your skies.

My hands tremble still,
my voice quiet and thin.
You touched beauty and broke it—
I was never meant to let you in.

Run.
Let shame chase your steps.
Lie.
Wear your mask again.

Stain.
Things that were never yours to touch.
March.
Through lives you’ve broken too much.

Paint a little more.
Maybe that will hide the cracks.
Paint her, paint me—
but never give the colors back.

Your fingerprints are pressed on pages of my life,
you signed a name I never gave you the right.

Run.
Lie.
Scream.
Hide.

Paint.
Stain.
Break.
Divide.

Yo­u stole my innocence like ink on stolen lines.
Does your guilt whisper at night,
the way your memory haunts mine?
lexi Jul 6
SH
though I'm clean I cant help but miss it
the little red drops
the way I was in control of it
the stinging
the pain
its been 6 months and its all I think about
its messed up really
its something that only some will understand
even people who do it don't always get it
we just know we do it for something
I miss it
the understanding that in that very moment I'm in control of my own pain
that I'm in control and can be whenever I need to
that it doesnt all have to be mental
that I can release everything through I tiny little slit in my skin
but I cant do it again
cant break the promises
cant go back.
some days I really wish I could though.
TW
#sh
Kai Jul 6
My love
I know things get rough
Things may be bumpy
Even through the times where things are tough
You always stay right there by my side
We may fight
But we always make up
I may be difficult
But you figured out how to handle it
No matter what happens your right there by my side
Helping me
Even when it hurts you
You help me
Even when I yell
You help me
Even when I lie and say im ok
You help me
When I have those bad thoughts
You help pull me out of that head space
When I cut
Your annoyed
But thats because I didn't say anything
My love
Your the love of my life
Through the good and the bad
I promise I'll do what I can
I'll do better for the both of us
I'll help in anyway I can
I love you sweetheart
More than anything
Idk its 12 30 im tired I just got off the phone with them I had a long day
Rain Jun 30
I remember,
Going back to class,
After taking the knife to my skin.
By knife, I mean the stolen box cutter,
From engineering class.
Meant to be used for cardboard.

I remember,
Sitting through class.
Letting that ridiculous long skirt,
Absorb my ****** pain.
Fearing, it would seep through.
And someone would see.
Although it never did.
And no one saw.

I remember,
Hiding in the bathroom.
For three periods in a row.
Clawing at my thighs,
Because the only tool I had,
Was a pen.
So, I wrote cruel things.
Promises, words to end things.
And when I emerged, glazed.
No. One. Noticed.

I remember,
How much I wanted them to see me.
To look me in the eye,
And see my suffering.
But, no one did.
No. One.
My painful memories
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