A knife is nestled in his hand
Poised and ready
A perfectly calm exterior
A raging battle inside
Cold gleaming metal
It smirks in his firm grasp
You can’t do it, it taunts
With a sigh he puts the knife away
I’ll do it next time
I long to so badly
No one is there to stop me
Next time…he promises
There he is again
Lonely and cold
Cloaked by the dark of night
Watching the moon reflect
On the surface of the knife
With curious half-crazed eyes
And with a maniac’s cackle
Crimson blood is spilled
Seeing red is calming
The pain is relief
Power is mine
I have control, he reasons
Hidden in the darkness
The cuts get deeper
A little blood is not enough
He craves more
He ignores the warnings
Shrugging of his conscience
Too far, too deep
He wants to stop, but he can’t
I’ve gone too far
Cut too deep
I have lost control
I want to stop, he whispers
His girlfriend cries
Begs and pleads
He’s got a one way ticket
Stubborn, he refuses to admit
He’s weak, he was wrong
With weary eyes he screams
Silently for her
The one who won’t judge him
Help me…
I’m scared…
I don’t want to die
Please…he pleads
I can’t write your story
You are the only author
I can’t fix every problem
You have to help yourself
I’m done being your band-aid
Reach inside yourself
Find the strength, I know you have
Call out to God, stop this now
She’s right
I have to stop
Use my own strength
And lean on God, he promises
Another cold dark night
The knife nestled in his pocket
Sleeping soundly
He ended it
No more blood
No more pain
He can live again
And he drifts off to sleep
Forgetting to thank her
The girl who’s words
Saved his life
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem