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My eyes still burning from tears
your hateful voice ringing in my ears
I wish I were dead
I wish I were alone
There.
I used the razor again, Blood comes slowly
I wipe it away but more comes
I get scared and wash my arm
but more blood comes
Huridley i search for band-aids and find one, blood driping into the sink
I hear you come home
I rip open the package and stick it on my arm now i see no more blood.
I walk out with my arm around my middle and pray you dont see me
You dont.
I thank god.
I thank the world.
I put on my jacket and arm warmers and walk out.
You yell at me again.
My arm hurts.
But it made me stop crying.
And i liked it.
So now Im starting to cut again.
Are you happy now?


A poem I wrote when I first cut with a razor..

I don't really CARE if it's not a poem.
I did everything I wrote in there.
And Your wrong.
LOTS of people in write poety.
They just dont want to show.
Oh..one question.
WHY do you think it's not poetry?

Poetry is what you make of it. One could say this isn't poetry simply for the fact that it sounds more like a briefe story or blog. But a poet need not ryhme, Nothing needs to ryme, So long as it's shortened and more cryptic than a simple story.

wtf is wrong with u idiots that cut? are u retarded? stop cutting! i don;t understand y u do it. i just want to kill you for cutting yourself.! stupid retards!!!!!!!!!!!!!! emo rofl rofl rofl rofl rofl rofl evil evil evil evil evil evil evil evil evil scream scream scream scream scream scream scream

Let me bleed away my pain, Melt away from all my fears. These wounds get deeper as I go, I've chocked back all my tears. The hurt inside my darkest dreams, Shows through my stone cold eyes. To open them would tear my soul, For half the night I waste in sighs. Suicide is my only friend, To help me through my tasks. Suicide is the only friend, To let me forget my past. I do not ask for many things, So of you I ask this; Will suicide be my only friend? Or will you save me from this misery?

I wrote this 2 years ago..it sucks..but 2 years ago..
i write way better now..

I shall draw you a picture,
a picture with a twist,
ill draw it with a razor blade,
ill draw it on my wrist.
and if i draw it correctly a fountain of red will apprear,
washing away my sarrow,
washing away my fear.

No, this has been around the net for like 3-4 years, he didn't make it.

This poem I have trouble with. It starts out about wanting to die but I don't think cutting has anything to do with that mainly because its not suicide. I would limit the focus and make it specifically about wanting to die or how cutting makes everything feel better.