The Reality of It

Everyday I see you crying, hollow in your tiny shell.

Constantly around you, but it never seems to help.

I wish that I could heal, all the gashes in your skin.

To take away the pain you hold, that is driving you to this.

 

Is there not another way, to release all the pressure built up inside.

I hate the way they make it out to be, like you're doing it for fun.

Because this is a real problem in society today, and we make it out to be cliché.

So stop the blade from breaking your skin, and call me up, I don't care

 

We'll dance like how we used to, running around and singing.

Anything to stop the noise, because I care about you more than you will ever know.

I'm afraid I am losing you, with each etching in your skin.

This isn't how I want you to end, think of all the things you love.

Forget the bad, remember the good.

Please, I am begging you. Please.

If this is your last night, just let me tell you I love you. And I'll see you in Hell.

Lollipops, like I promised.

 

 

Author's Note

This is a tribute to everyone who has self-harmed. Please know that you are not alone. There are always others who have experience the pain you have. But this is not the way to deal with it. So please. Don't. There are so many people who love you. Don't be offended by the Hell part. I always agreed with this person that we would meet up in Hell after we died. I can only assume they are waiting for me there. All of them...