The First Cut Poem by Jasmine Oliver

The first cut is the deepest
The second cut hurts more
The third cut leaves me crying
and sprawled across the floor.
The fourth cut stings a little
The fifth cut brings more pain
The sixth cut bleeds a lot
There is a severed vein.
The seventh shines a light
The eighth beckons me in
The ninth welcomes me home
While it shows it's evil grin.
The tenth cut proves true
And I fall into the light
All I see is misery
There is no end in sight.
I want to meet eleven
And end all that I see
But I cannot seem to move
All I do is bleed.
Soft cries echo in my head
They are calling out for me
I whisper a silent apology
And finally I'm free.