Poetry & Art

I want it over.

I don’t give a fuck how it happens.

Just, please.

Please, take me.

By my hand,

Or someone else’s.

Just let the suffering.

Pain.

Torture.

Life.

Drain from me.

Let me fall into that everlasting sleep.

Just please.

Fucking take me.

I’m spending the night at my dads tonight..

I went to a movie before I came here.

I didn’t know I was gonna come staight here.

I don’t have my blades.

I can not, will not, handle this.

I’m going insane not thinking about cutting.

For the past few days,

I’ve been feeling very weak..

I’ve been cutting a lot lately too..

And of course, Its because of that..

At the moment, I feel so strong.

Then after, it all comes crumbling down.

My ‘friends’ think its because lack of sleep, or something else like that..

It’s lack of blood.

Not lack of sleep.

When he thinks back to before his depression, it really does go all hazy. Was he ever happy? Was it just a dream? It really does seem that way. He litterally cannot remember how to feel happiness anymore. He can’t get that smile that says “I’m happy without a care in the world” anymore, He’s lost it.

When he thinks back to happy memories, it actually gives him a headache. Just because he cannot remember how to feel that joy, that happiness. How is he supposed to get back to something he doesn’t know how to feel anymore?

Did all of those things really happen to him? Was he in love with the […]

This is a question for all of you.

If your friend is a cutter, and so are you, would it be best to: let your friend cut and if they need some more blades, give them some, or try to get your friend to stop even though you have the slightest idea that they will stop..??

How come I can see your whole life story and tell when you’re are lieing in your eyes,

But you can’t see my one emotion or tell when I’m lieing in mine?

My mo just knowticed all my new cuts on my wrist and two on my stomach.

Since I always wear bracelets, she thought it was from that.

Thank god.

I can’t cry.

I can’t honestly smile.

I can’t show my emotions all of a sudden.

I actually can’t.

I miss it when I could.

Go to sleep and close your eyes,
And dream of broken butterflies
That tore their wings against a thorn.
You know the pain that they have endured

Silver metal shine so bright
Scarlet blood that feels so right.
Dream of that blood trickling down,
And wake up just before you drown.

The moonlight shining off your tears
As you bleed out your worst fears.
So tonight when you start to cry
Whisper the cutters lullaby: Hushabye baby, you’re almost dead You don’t have a pulse and your pillow is red.
Your family hates you
Your friends let you bleed
Sleep tight with a knife,
Cause its all […]

Cuts don’t have to be big,

To be bad.

The longest cut, could not be deep.

But the shortest, always can.

The only thing I want for my birthday,

Is a pocket knife.

And I wish it was for protection.

But, of course, its for cutting.. And hopefully suicide..

The thing is.. Most of my friends and family are most likely gonna get it for me.

I couldn’t be more thrilled and terrified.

Instead of texting in class..

I’m cutting.

Instead of talking gossip at my sleepovers with one or two friends..

We are telling suicidal stories, cutting, and anything else dealing with suicide.

Instead of being addicited to drugs..

I’m addicited to cutting.

I was planning on overdosing tonight..

All relying on you, the love of my life, texting me back..

You didn’t.

I’m gonna try to overdose.

I’m gonna write my suicide note and everything.

And if all else fails.

I will write on this website to let you all know, that I’m still on this dreadful planet Earth.

I am nothing but a nuesence in evrybody’s life.

Why can’t I be the one that everybody cares about.

The perfect body.

The perfect face.

The perfect girl.

The perfect life.

The Perfect.

But nope.

I don’t look at scars like scars.

I look at them like accessories, that I’m too afraid to show off.

Afraid of the responses I will get.

I’m so tired.

Tired of acting like I’m happy.

Tired of pretending that I’m ok.. As if anyone cared to ask.

Tired of existing.

Tired.

I just wish I could go to sleep.

And stay asleep.