The Pain.
It surrounds her and soon engulfs her whole
Leaving no sacrifices, not even her soul
She was a hostage with no where to run
Now, her scars remind her what cannot be undone
Shiny sharp Objects.
Weapons of Choice.
Her heart now races
Her body tenses
As she braces herself
For that cut.
The past.
It floods her memory as she erases reality
A deepened darkness is her new-formed mentality
For every hand that has laid itself on her skin
She herself performs a whole new sin
Razors, glass, mirrors alike
Cut by cut
The blood does fall
Deep and deeper
She must go
For the pain
To ever cease
That Girl.
The one who you see with a smile on her lips
Has formed scars that bleed all across her hips
Cut by cut she has fooled each and every one of you
Although, one day, those pretty little scars will make their debut
The pain is torture
An Agonizing seer
The blood forms patterns
All across her ashy skin
The sin has been done
No going back
But now she can breath
Its over.
A cutter is a cutter, never does that change.
The pain that you feel from a blade never becomes strange
It's a world that becomes your home, never do you stray
The razor that your hold so tight, never do you betray.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nice poetic imagination, Lovemo. You may like to read my poem, Love and Iust. Thanks