Brit Lloyd

Pain Of The Past - Poem by Brit Lloyd

I lay there
Seeing what I've done.
I see the blood,
Yet I feel numb.
The broken glass cuts deeper
I feel it slice my skin.
I cry.
I cry until I have no tears,
Only fear at what I've done.
The monster inside me thrives,
While the real me dies.
Blood flows,
Tears fall.
I say I hate you all.
Inside I know that's not true.
It's only the voice of the monster
Who has broken loose.

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

This poem is based ff my experience with cutting. Originally, I wrote this for a project in my creative writing class. I figured I'd post it on here, after all, what harm could it do?

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, May 20, 2012

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