I sit here, just thinking
wondering if everything will be okay.
The last time that I checked my hands
there was blood all over them.
I know that I shouldn’t have done it
but there was my pain.
So, I cut myself
to end the pain of being hurt
Dark, gushing red drops of blood
slowly trickle down my arms into the palms of my hands.
I sit here, just thinking
wondering if my world is caving in on me.
I know that I need to stop
but I can’t stop the pain.
I cry every time I cut myself
and the tears mingle with the blood.
Sadness and pain slowly go away
as the blood trickles down to my palms.
All I feel now is not the hurt
but a numbness slowly encompassing my body.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes. It is true. I did this to myself almost through my whole junior year in high school last year, but thanks to two of my best friends I stopped and now I have better ways to deal with my pain by writing poetry and writing in a journal.