Psyke.org

Anon

I cut, I cry, and I wonder… Why?

Copyright Anon

I hear the words, I feel the pain
And nothing ever seems to change…
Until I cut and regain control
Out of sadness, despair or rage
All I know is things have to change

I cut, it hurts, and I see the blood
But still the thoughts all rage inside
For all the things I have to hide

I can’t disappoint, can’t live a lie
I cut, I cry, I wonder why
What made me do this?
Why is it so good?
Is that what makes me so misunderstood?

Help me understand why, I’m begging you
Because this outlet of pain just can’t continue
I cut, I cry, and I wonder… why?

Bleed

Copyright Anon

My flesh is my canvas.
My pain is my muse.
With inspiration like this,
How can I refuse?

No frame is needed,
My scars are my creation.
They show all the times
I’ve given in to temptation.

I wear my art on me,
So hurt is not kept inside.
And now no one knows
It’s my true self that I hide.

This is my therapy,
And it is all that I need.
Whenever I am lost,
All I have to do is bleed.

Another Night in my Head

Copyright Anon

I sink to the deepest levels
of low you can imagine.
I shake in anticipation
of putting that blade in action.
I slash and trash
and slice and dice
my veins so full of blood,
I watch the pain just
oozing out,
and then look up at God.
I ask him why this feels so good
and then I fall apart.
For every slice gives and takes
the pieces of my heart.
My insides are now empty,
I lay back in my bed.
I feel the stingy aftermath
of another night in my head.

 

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