I cut myself and watch it bleed,
I feel the rush inside of me,
I don't cause I'm stupid, or I'm ignored,
I do it because I'm kinda bored,
Running down, the bloods so great,
How did I ever get to this state?
I know its wrong, that I should fight,
then why the hell does it feel so right?
Why can't I stop, how can this be,
that I cut myself were no one can see,
no cries for help, don't want to be found,
but walking around my blood stains the ground,
I need help, I know I do,
I hidwe in the dark, won't come through,
And so, unfinished this poem shall go,
because, what happens next you never shall know.
-Mikki
My thighs were first.
Then my wrists.
And shoulders.
And fingers.
And feet.
Everything.
Ripped out at
the seams.
I ripped them out myself,
if only to avoid
giving others the pleasure.
I ripped them out hard,
if only to teach myself
a lesson:
I deserved it.
I ripped them out
and all the while
I sang to myself,
unable to cry
or scream
for fear
that
it would
make the
pain less real.
I joked about them.
I laughed about them.
I smiled about them,
calling myself
"the stupid emo kid"
and believing it was true.
It was true.
To me.
I deserved it.
I needed it.
I craved it.
I wanted it.
I breathed it.
I worshipped i
Here's a crappy little poem I wrote. I don't like writing but this just came to me. Sorry for any spelling errors, I didn't pay attention
in elementary school.
I'm just walking through the dark forest
trying to find my own way,
but its hard when you can't imagine
living another day
I just want to quit and give up on life,
but people constantly bug me
and tell me it'll be alright
So instead of talking to people
I rely on myself
Found a friend in a razor
who else
At first it was unpleasent
but now its more pleasure than pain
just trying to cut deeper
I might be insane.
I don't know what you would call this. It's just somthing i happened to write down. If there is any spelling errors try to ignore them.
I'm just walking through the dark forest with no trails or anything to guide me away from the thorns that lay hidden behind the beauty of the rose. I chose the path that was least traveled and now I'm lost because there is no knowledge of how to move forward with my life. I'm just stumbling around in the dark and everything is stopping me from preparing to make the next step in my journey. I've been trying to find a way out but I'm surrounded by thorns and my tool that cuts through them is dull and dosent wo