The blood streams down your arm,
As you lift your staple,
Up to see,
What it looks like,
You wipe the blood away,
Deeper you think,
You want it deeper,
The deeper you get,
The more it will hurt,
Blood its all you see,
You wipe it away,
As you feel the gash,
You made in your skin,
How many gashes?
It could be endless tonight,
You think about what happened,
And just keep going,
When will it end,
No-one really knows,
But you feel the gashes,
And think to youself,
I did that.
Oh my God, you are not cutting yourself are you? That scares me... Theodora Onken
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i used to do that but i hate it how people go 'don't do that' but for it actually relieves the pain i still sometimes do it but it scares me a lot but good poem! ! !