Cuts On My Wrist Going Towards My Fists Poem by Kayli Rotunno

tears roll down my face, at a slow but steady pace
wishing I can scrape away all my anger
as I look down I see signs of danger
I start to yell for help, then I realize no ones there to hear my yelp
no family at home
not even a voice of my own
blood roles down my wrist
slow and steady moves towards my fists
the scars will never go away
yet the skies constantly turn to gray
I cant help to wonder
about my future that lays far yonder
is it good or may it be bad
maybe its all dreadful and sad
can there be anything happy in life?
not without a razor blade, not without a knife
I stare in the mirror
and hope now, I'm going to see next year
It's so far off
I don't think I'm going to make it, ill I still be aloft?
It's hard to tell the future, and think about the past
I always think my hearts in a cast
will it get better? will it heal?
do I have to get on my knees? do I have to kneel?
beg for your forgiveness and let time pass
for I'm not a portrait, people look at me like they look through glass
like I'm not there, or like I'm not anywhere
It's like I don't exist
but I cant resist
resist that I'm here, resist that I'm real
this is real and thats how I deal
cuts on my wrist, blood on my fists
thats it
and by the way I will never make the same slit...