I run my cold fingers over my scars;
Knowing there will be more before the day is over.
I sit thinking about how much blood I will shed tonight.....
Hopefully I won't cut too deep;
Remembering what happened the last time, when I had to be rushe to the E.R.
There is a blade beside me,
On the side it reads ' stainless steel'.
I pick it up; it's coolness sends a shiver through my body.
I look at my scars again,
Then without thinking I push the razor into my leg.
There is no blood at first; just a fresh cut.
But then it starts to run down,
I like what I see, so I do it again
And again; making more scars.
When I am finished,
I am covered in sticky blood.
I look down to see that my wounds are still bleeding;
Just like my heart.
But I am satisfied for the day, knowing that tomorrow I will hurt again.
the imagery is very clear in this poem, sorry to see it written, but well written, if you get me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i hav edone been there and done tht... i no what u r goin through