Red is the color of the blood,
blood that slowly drips down your wrist
when you cut.
You cut to get rid of the pain
so you can heal,
you cut just to feel.
You feel the sharp,
tense blade on your skin,
now your getting ready to
feel the pain within.
You wanna stop
but you just cant, t
heres voices in your head
telling you to stop
but you keep on cutting
while listening to them chant.
All you wanna do is
see the blood
to no that your alive,
as temping as it is you might
wanna even take your life.
Cutting to me is a habit
something i do almost everyday,
i no that cutting isnt
the only way.
Its how i escape life
and everything else i hate,
its the only thing i have
yet i no its not my fate.
I try again and again
to stop
this horrible addiction
of having to cut just to see blood,
is it my fault?
im not understood.
Bleeding..
i watch to see
more blood
so I no that im not dead,
living this useless life
that I no still lies ahead.
Why is it that what ever happens
everyone blames me,
does any one even care
of the hurt inside of me.
I feel so much pain
and pain cant even describe
how I sometimes feel, I just want to bleed
and maybe even end my life
so I can heal.
So one last time
I take the blade
and start for skin,
now I can actually feel
the pain building within.
The cold,
shiny blade
slices through my soft flesh
relieving all of my past stress,
now you have one less person
to worry about
because I have bleed
to death
I have left you
all for you made my life a mess.
Skye Blah
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-cutter-screaming-out/
