Self Control

I can do nothing right,

Everything I do ends up wrong.

I am never perfect enough,

And I never will be.

My life is a whirlwind of storms,

I don't know when it'll ever stop.

My life is a whirlwind of dramas,

Ones that haunt me, even in my sleep.

So when I wake up screaming,

In the middle of the night,

I turn on my lamp light,

And search for something to cure my beating heart.

And when I finally find it,

You will see me with red dripping from my body,

And that is when you will know,

How long I have suffered for.

Long enough to resort to this,

The only way to cure me.

But not long enough to be dead,

Not long enough to be gone.

But now that I have calmed down,

I realise why I do it.

Why I enjoy the rush of adrenaline,

Doing what I do.

It's self control.

The only thing in my life I have control over,

Is what I'm doing to myself.

Without it, I may as well be gone.

Reviews

[Goat]

Wow, this poem is awesome! It's dark and depressing, but I suppose that was the feel you were going for. Nice job, it flows well and has a story to tell. It's very sad when someone gets so down in the dumps they resort to self harm, I think you captured that well. Nice job!

[1Disawsum]

Thankyou! Much appreciated! And yes, self-harm is just one of the infinitely many ways to gain some power, without power, we feel powerless, which makes us so much less motivated to wake up, to start another day afresh. It's all one cycle, if you really want to think of it like that.