Cutting is the

way I feel

As if I

Am truly real

Everyday

I feel so fake

And as if

I’ll never make

An impact

In anyone’s life

So I sit here

With a blade or knife

And I slash my body

To free my heart,

First slashing my arms

In order to start

Slash my throat

It’s all in vane

Slash my wrists

To end my pain

These are the words

That I hate,

And yet the words

That holds my fate

No one can see

My deep hidden pain

My blood, my scars

My deep hidden shame

I fall asleep

With tears in my eyes

And will I sleep

I wish to die

My dreams remind me

Of all my pain

And when I awake,

I wonder if I’m sane

At night I sit,

And cut to bleed

This self-mutilation

Is what I need

If not think

This pains not real

In other words,

I cut to feel

I don’t know why

I feel this way

This pain is something

I just can’t say

My broken-heart

My painful life

That’s why I sit here

With blades & knives

I feel so trapped

Frozen in ice

But I always pretend to be happy & nice

If I don’t they’ll see

Through my disguise

Thus ensuring

My timeless demise

If anyone read my poetry

Could see into my dreams.

They would know not everything

Is simple as seems

My cutting may seem stupid

Maybe even insane

But it makes me feel free,

Free from all my pain

The scars and cuts

All over my arms

Are what I do

To myself to harm

The blood that falls

Down to the ground

I wish to be rid

Of people and sounds

Be by myself

forever more

That would be

Such galore

Because of others,

I am alone

And I feel like

I can’t atone

For my mistakes

In my past

I always lose

Come in last

My love, my hate,

They’re both the same

I’m the only picture

without a frame…