Thoughts Of A Cutter
Cutters my name,
Releasing the pain is my game.
Some say I need help,
others exclaim "A Cry Out!".
Maybe I do,
But you probably would too.
When Crying isn't enough,
out come my razors and stuff.
Bandages, ointments, wraps and peels,
all of the tools to help my handwork heal.
I Know I worry the others,
They're like over-protective mothers.
But they just don't understand,
Why this feelings so grand.
It's a way for me to escape,
a Fast ride I can take.
Nothing else numbs the pain,
My attempts to quit are in-vain.
But if I'm not careful and cut too deep,
The prince to pay isn't cheap.
All these marks I have to hide,
I sometimes wonder if I should of Died...
So yea. This is what happens when I get depressed and Can't talk to anyone. I write poems about cutting and suicide. ><;
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Story Of A Girl
Well, here's the story of my life. Most entries will be visible, only a couple are private. <3
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xXxRainxXxDancerxXx
Community Member |
