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From a Cutter to the World

Copyright Cookie

Dead of summer
hotter than hot
they’re all wearing tank tops
but I cannot.
I pull my hoodie
over my head
keep my eyes down
wish I were dead.
Go to the bathroom
pull out the blade
to bleed for my hatred
to bleed for my pain
Her eyes watched me closely
Could not understand
As I pressed the blade harder
To the palm of my hand
She asked me the question
Why do you cut?
I wanted to tell her
But sadly could not
When you don’t understand
Its so hard to explain
how you release your self hatred
through physical pain
these scars tell a story
all one hundred and four
and when the story’s not finished
I cut even more
There’s always a twist
in the story’s true plot.
when I want to stop hurting
I simply cannot.
The razor blade laughs
knowing I can’t resist
a chance to tell my life
on my arms, legs, and wrists.
So hold me tight, stranger
for I am confused
I’ve been torn and tattered
and badly abused
My life is in ruins
As I’m sure you have guessed
but safe in your arms,
for a while, I can rest.

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