Treasure Island

Victoria Black

(June 3,1993 / Portland, Maine)

Sorrow


My sorrow scars left behind,
I still feel my pain and agony,
I still feel the blood that trickled down my arms,
I still see the rage in the face of my own dad,
I cry at night,
All alone,
My body begs me to do it again,
My sorrow doesn’t want to go,
Inching toward a razor again,
Putting it to my wrist like a bracelet,
Pain all of a sudden released and placed with more sorrow,
Why I do these things to me,
I wish I knew,
But the pain fills with relief,
Then replaced with sorrow and hate.

Submitted: Thursday, April 10, 2008
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  • DELETED NOW (4/11/2008 5:43:00 PM)

    you remind me of a friend in this poem she has a father she can never impress
    and everyday she just wishes she were dead but I tell her otherwise that she has friends that love her and help her whenever needed so she stays alive...
    ....this razor thing is depressing but alot of people do it for a reason...there has to be a reason....doesn't there? (Report) Reply

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