Whitney
I cut, I burn. I some times feel better after. I started cutting to get away from my parents, but, after they found out it only got worse. Shrinks and ‘programs’ don’t work all the time. Sometimes the only thing that will work is so obvious that they miss it. I just wanted them to care again and see the pain I was in. But, they missed that, and I hurt. And I still cut 2 years later.
I’ve had friends that cut, and it helps to talk to them. To understand why someone else does it. Helps you understand why you do it.
I’m looking for a friend to talk to. I miss having that understanding you don’t get for a paycheck an hour. Looking for someone to care for more than the first cut. Someone that will mean it when they say, “I know how you feel,” because, they did what I did. Not because they studied it for years. A call for help, that no one cared to notice. A young girl finds out how cruel the world is.
I’m so tired of living,
Feels like the world is falling.
Looks like its raining blood.
Makes me remember,
Remember when I was happy?
Good times.
Faded around the edges,
Darkened?
Tainted?
Flower pedal dreams,
Sweet, soft, wonderful.
Nightmarish world,
Cruel, alive, sad.
Forget when you were sad?
Have you ever been sad?
Do you know what its like;
To feel the pain and torment of ones soul,
Poured out through a wrist?
Ever been depressed?
Never been happy?
Don’t say you care,
If you think you know,
But haven’t a clue.
If you will take the time,
To understand,
The pain,
The hopelessness,
The fear,
The loneliness,
To understand,
Me.
Then you can say,
You care.
If you say I don’t,
Talk to you,
Think about a time you offered to,
Listen.
Did I fear you hearing me?
Did you really want to,
Know?
All my pain.
You say you felt it,
When I didn’t talk?
When you spoke to me,
Harsh words,
Stirring me deep.
Could you shut up?
Let me breath,
Let me live,
Leave my pain alone.
Don’t cause more,
You think it is fake?
Acting out?
Maybe.
But do you wake up,
With itchy wrists,
Because no one would listen?
Did you ever,
Hide your tears,
When so badly you wanted to be held,
Just so,
You could cry with out question?
Would you dream of death,
And want to stay dreaming,
Even if it scare you?
Would you read this,
And see the words,
Or just another check you have to,
Fill out–
So you–
Don’t–
Have–
To–
Listen–
To a dying girls thoughts.
If I screamed?A poem. Speaks for me. My words. My pain. Sugar_Kitten666@yahoo.com if you “know how I feel”…
