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Death makes you a ******. Death makes you a little girl too scared to cry. Death wakes you up.
Kat 4d
You say,
Why would you hurt yourself on purpose?
Are you crazy? 
And then you presume 
To know everything about me 
To know the person 
Whose scars paint a picture 
Of her pain 
Whose wounds 
Weep the thousands of tears 
She secretly sheds 
Whose swollen arms 
And black and blue bruises 
Breathe "I need help" 
But I am too afraid 
To ask 

You say,
Self-harm is a cry for attention 
But if I wanted attention 
I would not be trying 
To cover up the chaos 
I have created 
With long sleeves 
And longer lies 
Bury the bruises 
Behind excuses like 
"It was my cat"
Or "I fell while exercising" 
If I wanted attention 
I would bare my wounds proudly 
Display them for the world to see 
To judge me as they see fit 
Like you do now 
But why would I want attention 
When I fear judgement most of all
When my self-confidence is so eroded 
I want to disappear
Into the depths of the earth 
Live under layers
Of long-dead dreams 
So that I can no longer hurt anyone 
Or be hurt by anyone 
Again 

You say,
Self-harm is a phase 
I should have grown out of it 
By now 
But I am not just
Some angsty "emo" teenager 
Who cuts to fit in 
Or to be cool 
I do not just cut 
And besides 
Cutting is not just for teenagers 
Yes, I started in high school 
But I have used this as a coping strategy 
So many times by now 
That I do not know how to cope 
Without it 

You say,
People who self-harm are twisted 
They find happiness in hurting themselves 
But please don't call me a monster 
Who thirsts for the sight of my own blood 
Don't mistake my self-preservation
For pleasure 
I do this because I hurt too much 
Hate myself too much 
This is my only way to survive 
Cause I want to die 
But I don't want to die so badly 
That I have stopped trying to live 

You say,
Why would you do this?
Are you insane? 
And then you presume 
To know everything about me 
But you don't know anything 
At all
I no longer self-harm, but I wrote this poem from the perspective of someone who started when I did and continued long into adulthood. I know people's reasons for and experiences with self-harm vary and I don't want to generalize, merely to try and dispel some of the myths and the judgements that surround it.
Sav 4d
I used to do
something horrible
to myself.

I am sure you have heard of
self harm.

I've been good for as long as I've met my wife.

But for the first time in a while I feel like
dragging that blade across my skin again.

I have used a marker to mark where I would like to hit.

And so far it is not working.

Why is sickness as deep as it is.
Why do I still feel like slicing me flesh to feel something.

I would say everything is terrible but it's not.

I think I might have just forgotten to take my meds for a few days.
haven't cut, still want too, still wont
I hope one day it’s just a memory and not an activity.
every time
i see a blue
pick-up truck
i flinch
even though
i know
you don't drive
one anymore
Lost Jan 16
I wrote a poem one day
That made my blood feel hot in my veins
So I scratched at my skin like a scratch ticket
Until I won my liquid red prize
I smeared it on the page
And looked at what I did with tears in my eyes
I hid it for months but couldn’t stop being afraid
So I biked over to the neighborhood lake
And I threw the diary I bled in
As far as a could into the water
But my blood never stopped growing hotter

I clawed and gouged all of my limbs
Trying to bleed my way out of my skin
I didn’t know what I was doing
But I knew it must be hid
Because before the diary was thrown
I remembered that poem
I took the tip of the sharpest pencil
And tried to carve it
one letter a day
Into my arm
I started to keep my sleeves down
And fear set in
So I took that same pencil
And scratched it out of my skin

People started to notice then
And ask what happened to my arm
So I learned to make excuses
And better hide my self harm

Back then I was twelve
I read two to three books a day
But nothing and nobody I knew about
Made what I did make sense
I didn’t know why I did it
I just knew I had to
And now I hate to look back
It just makes me sad to

Innocent baby girl
Marring sweet young skin
It took seconds to do it
But years until the gravity set in
I still wouldn’t take it back
Despite all the countless scars
Because it all leads to the fact
That I am who I am now
Because of what I did then
Skylar Pratt Jan 10
I am all alone
In a place full of fear
Hold me close I need you dear
I'm fading
I'm falling
Into an abyss
I'm dying
I'm crying all alone in darkness
Is my soul pure
Will I make it to paradise
Or will I feel nothing
Frozen as ice
I repent for my sins
Darling I'm scared
I don't want to take my last breath of air
Especially
When no one is there
For something written when I was 14, I don't hate it.
Skylar Pratt Jan 10
I start my day to the early Sun
Shining, smiling, warm-hearted sun
Then the anxiety crawls through my skin
Clawing, calling, peel off dead skin
Depression calls just like an old friend
Crying, sighing, where are my friends
Uncertainty for future begins to set in
Worrying, watching, where to begin
All I need is a singular cut
Slicing, scarring, ruin my streak for what
Clean for two years don't want it to end
Denying, no crying, it will not end
Addiction calls, I turned him away
Leave me, feed me, you will go away
The abuse of a child is still hurting me
10 years, 20 years, God let it cease
Fighting of parents, I fall to my knees
Implore, explore, I need help please
Finally self-doubt is killing me
Hurt yourself, **** yourself, the words haunt me
Impending divorce blame lays on me
Guilty, hurting, no one else blames me
I'm not good enough, I'm not smart in school
Fear, hear, failing in school
My mirror reflection, an **** sight to see
Mocking, taunting, all genders appalled by me
A small set of words are used to describe me
Fat, ****, daily vocabulary
So I crawl into bed to see another day
Breathing, sleeping, with morning comes a new say
Man I was depressed as a teenager
Skylar Pratt Jan 10
I can't do this I need some way to cope
So I slice my skin and hope, cope, hope
Parents walk in and witness my shame
66 on one leg under 5 minutes seems lame
Rush to the hospital I really need help
"Destructive behaviors will never help"
Clean bill of health they say I'm whole again
Release me to the wild to commit no more sins

I can't do this there is no hope
Better leave a note so my family can cope
Come up with a plan, imagine the scene
I hope my family won't think less of me
***** under pressure, I cry and he knows
"BPD deals out extreme lows"
Try all the pills not a single one helps
Cut myself so deep I yelp
Rush to the hospital she really needs therapy
But in that room I feel all they do is stare at me

If I lose weight I'll be happy again
"Negative body image, a secret between friends"
Once again they say I'm good to go home
Not even my room feels as if its my own
Take lots of pills 2 times a day
I don't want to live like this day to day

Coping won't work I'm so very scared
If he never comes back again God I am scared
"BPD patients often experience extreme paranoia"
Depression is back but I expected it sorta
Panic attacks are the new daily thing
Often I feel crippling social anxiety
Keep to myself let life pass me by
But I know I'll regret it when its time to say bye
The panic can't stay I need it to stop
I begin to examine the drugs in the shop
"Maybe tomorrow but just not today"
Walk away feeling proud, I'm clean for the day
Another from when I was 16 and ****** at poetry lol. I'm still not great but *** old me you can't rhyme words with the same word.
Skylar Pratt Jan 10
A mark on my skin just like any other
I fell off my bike, I talked back to my father
But some are precise, like surgical scars
Remind me of the ride in the hospital car
Ones on my wrist are faded and gone
Ones on my thighs stand bold and strong
Years have gone by and here they remain
A constant reminder of temporary pain
Occasionally when things are rough
I pick up my knife again in a rush
Cold steel burning against warm hands
Salty tears return me to forgotten lands
Cry out in pain, beat my own head
Put down the blade,say this friend is dead
I've been clean all these years
I'll handle this anger with tears
Hate myself, spit at the mirror in scorn
No more scars for my skin to adorn
Another written during a hard time. It's kinda sad that this still pertains 3 years later.
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