Here I sit
Looking at my arm.
I sit and wonder
Why do i do self-harm?
Is it my choice
Or is it part of my life?
Why do I enjoy
to play with this knife?
I slice and I enjoy it.
I enjoy the pain of cutting.
I do it in times of distress.
I do it when I'm stressing.
For you I wont cut
But for me I will gain
In the greatness
Of the pain.
Watch as I lay on the floor
Empty pill bottle on the ground
It's close to five
The bottle rolls round and round
Suppers almost done
She'll be in my room soon
Hope like hell
Maybe I'll be doomed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem