April 10th, 2011 poetry – cutting me away

Loser AgainA sharp object in front of me,
Crimson stained with blood,
the cut across my arm and leg is deep,
sometimes this is almost fun. My secret spot on the floor is cold,
it feels good against my skin,
and it’s as if I’ve never been told,
that life isn’t just pretend. Everyday I tell myself,
that this is the day I’m done,
that this is the day that I’m gonna quit,
but everyday I’m wrong. It’s how I let my feelings out,
how I ease the pain,
the things I keep inside of me,
are coming out again. They wash away with all the blood,
that oozes through my skin,
and just like that it’s all gone,
but the devil’s won again.  Its All I KnowThe urge is stronger than ever
as I lay in my bed
wishing I was dead.So much hurt,
so much pain,
so much hate pouring down like rain.Agony is exhausting,
but my arms itch
for another slit.Everything is wrong.
Where is the good?
All around I feel misunderstood.When did it all become so hard?
Maybe I should give life one last try,
but with every breath… inside I die.I guess my therapist thinks i really don’t want his help.
I can’t tell anyone the truth.
No one knows what I’m going through.I pick up the blade,
press down on my skin,
and oddly enough, on my face is a grin.A shivering thought you could never understand,
but I always seem to find
the pain numbs my mind.The harder I press,
the more thoughts the blade steals,
and the better I feel.How has reality come to this?
I don’t know what to do as I watch time grow.
So as always, I stick to what I know

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