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The Hurt

The hurt
The pain
The sadness
They overwhelm me
So much I want
To call the blade
To open my skin
Letting the bad blood bleed out
Razors slicing
Cuts bleeding
Blood dripping
Bringing the
Calm Surrender
I need
I long to let the blades
Be my sense of security
To keep the mental calm to that:
My hurt
My pain
My sorrow
Won’t blacken the lives of those around me
I’ve longed
For a person who cares
Who would listen to me
The hurt
The pain
The sorrow
Of my life
The person
Who sees the real me
The one I’ve kept at bay
By the razor
Slicing my skin
Burying me in
Crimson Relief
Each cut
Tells a story
Of hurt
Of pain
Of sadness
Each story similar
Yet altogether different
But those stories
Are kept hidden
By the plastic smile
And long sleeves
But this I know
The razor is only a
Temporary solution for,
The hurt
The pain
The sorrow
They come back stronger each time
Now I am trying
To stop
No more cuts…
They’re making it worse
And now
I have someone,
Who cares
Who listens
Who I’ve promised to stop


(February 17,2007 with some edits on March 9,2007)

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Comments (1)

I hope this was cathartic - but listen to and depend on nobody but yourself.