Broken Poem by EMMA Funnell

The blunt scissors aggressively scrape my skin,
For I don't have a sharp knife.
They are refusing to pierce my flesh,
I'm sick to death of this life.
I want very much to feel the warmth of my blood,
Trickling down my arm and dripping on the floor.
I can stand the pain but I can't stand the scars,
I need to find that special door.
That behind it locks away all my problems,
So that I can start a better life.
But it's hidden so well I fear I'll never find it,
Damn I wish I had a knife.
They tell me if I go I'll just be running away,
But I see it as moving on.
They say I'll regret it if I don't think it through,
But I've been thinking for far too long.
I'm ready to move and start a new life,
I can't stay here and watch them die.
I refuse to see them go through it,
If I said I wanted to be here for them it would be a total lie.
This is tearing me apart inside,
But I can't watch them go through hell.
It would break me more than if I just left,
So to them I must say farewell.
I'm broken enough as it is,
Without them dying right before my eyes.
I've made my choice and there's no going back,
It's time so say our goodbyes.