The Cut That Always Bleeds Poem by Carrot Miller

It seems so easy,
hiding the cuts from the world,
and never letting them know how much it hurts.

People don't see the pain I hide,
They don't know me,
They won't know me,
Not even at my funereal.

I reach for the knife
and the cut bleeds,
and afterwards I'm numb
I feel liberated,
for a time.

Until I remember how I'm alive
and now I've got to hide them.
It's not better,
the scars are a symbol of how its worse.

It never stops, it never leaves me alone,
its always there in the dark
Watching, waiting
For when I'm most vulnerable.

The blade glitters through the emptiness
calling my name,
whispering sweet words and lies,
and I can't resist the temptation.
And so goes the cycle of self harm.
My cycle of self harm.