Just a poem I’ve written today which is I think pretty recognizable for people who cut. It’s the way I feel about it.
The first time,
it feels so innocent.
Just a small scratch.
But after a while,
you know that first cut wasn’t that innocent.
It was the beginning of an addiction,
that’s hard to beat.
And addiction that’s getting worse and worse.
There’s nothing left of that first little scratch.
The cuts you make now are much worse.
While you’re cutting,
you can see the skin tearing apart.
You can feel the stinging pain,
of your knife that’s cutting in your skin.
You can see the blood,
that flows slowly down your arm.
You can feel your body shaking,
feel the endorphins flowing through your body.
No,
the first cut wasn’t that innocent at all,
even though it still feels so…