I was eleven when I first placed a razor against my skin
and I can't remember why
Not that first time
I could give you all these reasons
...
I won't want me
If I was you and you were me, I won't want me
My cracks have cracks and
I've got wounds on my scars
...
The pounding in my chest vibrating through my may body
In the silence I can hear it clear
War drums
Like my heart can tell the battle is almost here
...
I've lived my life in a box.
Self-imposed 4-way concrete
Walled in.
I never start, so I never fail;
...
I know we're going to crash.
I can feel it happening,
Can hear the spinning, the screeching,
And the echo of heartbones breaking.
...
#MedStudent; Lover of Words and stories and random weird literary pieces I have loved words since I was little, reading them, writing them, hearing them, everything concerning them. It was and is the thing that makes me feel alive the most. I am a grade a amateur though, and for a long time I stopped writing. Started again recently though, was going around with a constantly cluttered mind. Still have a lot of words stuck that I can't figure out how to get out, but the ones that do come out……as unpoetic as they read to me they still feel like a chunk of my heart. And yes I'm rambling so I'll come back some other day when I'm feeling cool to edit.)
Cuts
I was eleven when I first placed a razor against my skin
and I can't remember why
Not that first time
I could give you all these reasons
Good reasons
People are bad
Home was sad
Life was hard
Yeah life was hard, but that wasn't why
A cop out, plain and simple
My escape
I just wanted a little more time
to breathe and do nothing
But I hadn't hit my quota of pain
I hadn't sweated blood yet
I'd had a couple tears,
but no blood
So I cut
and I bled
And I sat in my hurt as you all passed by
and clapped
and hailed
What a hard hard worker I am
working til hands peel and souls shriveled up
But it was just a cut
Skin deep
And you didn't notice!
So I kept cutting
Little lines of white and lies
That told stories of how much I didn't do
To get you on my side
And even when you found out that I was a lie
that I wasn't really that strong
or brave
That I'd been sneaking my way in
while making funny pain faces
I still couldn't stop
Not for long anyway
I know you said that this is life
We are expected to toil
It is supposed to hurt
For long
That all it's supposed to do is hurt
But I can't keep up
I can't run on blisters or draw with broken fingers
So I cut
And let up think I crawled all the way up