Shame

So Many Things Run Through My Mind.
As I Reach For The Blade I Find,
Though None Of Them Include The Shame I Feel After.
Or What My Friends And Family Say When They See The Cuts On My Wrists.

I Get Scolded By My Friends For Doing What I Do.
But That Makes Me Feel Worse When Whey Tell Me To.
They Tell Me To Quit What I'm Doing, It's Stupid.
Others Wonder What Problems Do I have? I'm Just A Kid.

It's Not About Problems, It's About Trying To Feel Better.
Until The Blood Is Running Down My Arms Not Spelling Any Letter.
The Tight Grip Around Me Is Tight And Suffocating, When It Is Loosened, I Am Tied to another.
Having To Cut Becomes An Obsession, It's Hard To Keep It Secret and Undercover.

If I Have No Blade Near Me When I Become Uneasy, My Body Becomes A Weapon.
Nails Claw At My Skin until it's red raw. The Weight That Lingers Over Me Weighs A Ton.
I Do Not Want To Kill Myself, It Is Just Giving Me A Release.
People Always Make Assumptions But Please.

Don't Unless You Actually Know Me.
Or The Shame Would Be Worse.

Poem by Petite_Pixiii

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