This is not really a poem... more just random thoughts strung together.

I sit with my hands curled in fists
I don't want them to hurt
The way they've hurt me,
Just because the cut would be
Too much deeper for them
But for me a stitch or two and I go on
Sure the pain stings, but I'm okay
I will be okay…
Fists turning my knuckles white
Why is everyone so selfish?
So cruel to others?
Not caring?
I feel so alone…
Not one person can say they've felt
Every single thing I've felt
Mixed with all I've done...
Nobody can say they felt; the exact same thing.