Psyke.org

Philippa

Copyright Philippa

She

Her body lay still. Covered in
Silence.
Her black painted mask,
Cracked at the sides.
They came to say their
Final goodbyes;
‘She always seemed so quiet.’

As he turned he saw,
Through disgust.
His eyes followed the
Trails of released
Hatred.
A tortured
Ghost ran through him. They will
Pay the price — she did.

Rape, first-degree murder took away his
Life.
Innocent man held behind
Bars.
Everyday, paying the price. For the
Life that had taken
Itself.

Untitled

Please don’t do this
Why did you hurt me?
Our happiness was shared,
But I was left alone.

You mean so much to me,
But you turned away.
Please stop hurting,
I can’t take it anymore.

As soon as you left me,
The blood began to pour;
Over our happiness
Now you see the pain

Knife cutting deep;
Just to stop the pain.
The love turned to blood
And I can’t see through it

The scars of love,
Are the only things left.
Too ashamed to show you,
Because you can’t understand.

This pain is too hard.
It hurts too much.
I wish you could see,
All the bloodshed for you.

Stop all the lying, please.
I know you’re not here.
Seeing your face,
Cuts deeper and deeper.

I hate you too much.
So the bleeding stopped.
There’s too much pain,
For the blade to take away.

I am just young;
Too immature,
To realise these scars
Won’t help me at all.

I’ll look back and see them,
Ask why I bothered.
They’re just kid’s mistakes,
Not scars of true love.

The Reason

When it hurts too much inside of me I
Cut out the pain with a silver blade.
Holding my only light.
Piercing the flesh, with one easy sweep.
Blood flows evenly from the
Wrist. Onto the fingertips.
Drips. Over the carpet in a pool of
Hate. I want to be free from this kind of pain.

Release Me

Blood-soaked bed sheets
Are all that are seen
From my nightly
Release of all my own pain.
Sometimes it
Hurts. Too much to
Bleed. I see the
Pills. Locked up in the packets
I help
Release them, like they
Release me
After tonight
I won’t be here.

Show

You walked in to watch me cry.
Sat on the bed next to me.
This is the only way I’m free.
Smiles forming across your face. Like the
Smiles across my arms
Blood drips down.
Onto your
Porcelain fingertips,
Shocking it brightly.
You need to know its
Real. You taste my
Pain. You know the
Crimson is
For you.

Special Case

Each and everyday I come,
Walk into your life.
Sit and wait for you to arrive,
Just to be taught your way.
You don’t have a clue about.
What is going on in me.
Thinking I do shit at home.
When really I work with blood

Special case
Yes I am
Sat at home
Crying all night
Special case
Can’t you see?
The scars I write
This is my life.

I Sit

I sit.
The pain is here
I sit.
Feeling the hurt
I sit.
Alone again
I sit.
The knife so sharp
I sit.
Against my skin
I sit.
Cut deep down
I sit.
The blood flows
I sit.
Down my arm
I’ve slit
My wrists again.

Near The End

For a split second before I die a
Smile.
It will appear on my face, this time the right way up. I
Pray that my
Pathetic life will not be shown to me on a Silver screen.
For then, you see, the much needed
Smile. It will
Fade. Turn back over,
No longer being a
Smile. But a
Frown.

Like it has been forever.
Like it will be for eternity.

The Life of Me

This poem bears my heart and soul,
Secret stories never been told.
I was young when at first the pain began,
But no one was around to give a damn.
Each night with bloody tears,
Streaming out all of my fears.
This carried on for years to come,
The pulling of my anger then begun.
At twelve my first attempt at suicide,
A young child wished to have died.
The hurting grew worse as life moved on,
Slicing at the flesh all night long.
I decided I was done and planned it all,
My death would come from one last fall.
The alcohol took over in my mind,
Out came my plan of suicide.
I never got to the place of my death
But hours later on the floor in a mess.
Life continued to carry me through,
And more of my blood I drew.
Just to get through the chaos of the day,
The Lord Almighty making me pay.
Years later I knew it was time,
To leave my hurt and misery behind.
On the counter lay fifty pills,
One by one, taken to kill.
Hours later woken up from the light,
Into darkness, no future in sight.
The trails of blood and tearing kept me alive,
Until I knew I couldn’t survive.
Along with the wine, the pills I had taken
Straight into the shining, God forsaken.
Waking up straight back into hell,
And in my life I continue to dwell.
A silver gun, with a single bullet I all I need
So the next time I try I will succeed.

Walking Around

Alone.

Blood.

Dripping softly off my body.
Leaving a trail of
Hatred
Behind. But always, some
Clings on and

Soaks,
Soaks

Deep into my skin
The next
Cut must be deeper

Deeper
Deeper

Until nothing is left

Except a
Hate drained
Corpse. Able to
Live in
Death freely.

Suicidal Tendencies

I’m thinking again of suicide -
Can’t be here anymore.
Happiness no longer an option.
Last time I should have died.

I’ve tried all the options there are;
I’ve drunk till I’m numb;
Taken pills for an age.
But this hasn’t gotten me far.

All I want is to smile.
Enjoy the things I’m supposed to.
But it can no longer happen.
My innocence lost as a child.

God, please this time make it work.
Cannot stand waking up.
Just to be left in misery.
Please stop the hurt.

‘I hate myself and want to die’
The infamous words of Cobain.
Everyone laughing, taking the piss.
But with you I cry.

A Love Poem

The love is no longer real.
It’s all in my head.
I have been disabled.
Learning to live a new life.
Sometimes it’s hard to cope.

But I can still feel your presence.
Standing by me.
I feel your arms wrapped around me
I feel you lips gently kiss mine
This love is just an illusion

It’s been a long while
Since I’ve seen you
Shouldn’t hurt as much
But still my heart aches
For you to love me back

The only thing left
That is part of reality
Are all the scars
From the blood drawn
The only love I have left.

A Ghostly Presence

Your shadowed face seems tempting
Hood up over your darkened head
Boney fingers point to my chest
My suicide heart
Guns, knives, drugs
Too difficult to choose
Drugs have taken me away
But I returned the same, the
Scars from the knife remain
Tonight, the gun
Cold suicide against my forehead

A permanent solution
To a temporary problem.

Ode To Millie

You sang your song, all through life
Until it came to an end
You freed yourself and your blood from the misery around you.
Lay down with no one to listen, they only heard you sing of
Sadness and despair. After you
Died everyone stopped listening -
Except me.
I hear you sing of
Happiness and joy, a life beyond our own. And when I
Die, together we shall sing.

Happiness

What?!
That word has not been felt for a long time
It is only when I describe what it would feel like to be
Dead. I use it to
Beg for
Death. It has been long forgotten.
Lost in the woods we are both trapped in
We have been
Forced our separate ways.
I wish we could reunite. Then I wouldn’t be
Scared. But we cannot be found
And never will
I’ll find you
One day. When I
Die.

Tell Me

How can I describe to you the way in which I am free?
I know that it would only
Hurt you more.

It broke my heart along with yours when
You found out I wanted to
Die so badly, I tried.

I drew your tears from my arms.
Unable to comfort you in your time of need
In my time of need.

I never have and will never be
Ashamed of what I do.
I am happy to escape my feelings with a blade.

But how, how can I tell you — my beloved parents
That I forcefully cut out my pain with the same
Knife you use to feed me?

How? If you could tell me how I would.
I would tell you everything, but I can’t
It is something that can never be told, ever.

 

Permanent location: http://www.psyke.org/poetry/p/philippa