inside we scram.
I cut down heaps
I bite my lip to stop the scream escape my throat
the silent push down
tears I cry, make my t-shirt wet
harder I push
I push down, deep down.
I hold the next one down for three
1 2 3
I slowly oh so slowly pull the razor across my already scarred arm,
I hide my arms from peeping eyes
and draw up my sleeves to hide the cuts, but that doesn't hide the pain
I push down, I press the knife into my arm
and slowly pull the knife out.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem