One of many; Poem about cutting

I used to cut but finally quit. Whenever I feel the urge to, I write a poem about it and it usually makes me feel better.

An Ice cold blade across the skin,

calls out to be deep within.

An open wound, where pleasure is pain.

As it pours out, a Dark Crimson Rain.

Too much torture, Too many fears.

Too many Heartaches, too many tears.

So many times I sit in the dark..

But within the shadows, I leave only those marks.

Author's Note

Written on: September 14, 2012

Reviews

[London Poet]

Very sad and moving. It speaks to your suffering.