Power

When I hold it in my hand,

I feel much power

I feel like I haven't been crying for the past half hour

When I lay the cool metal upon my wrist

I feel my worries cease to exist

Sometimes, I let it sit there a while

While I reminisce

About the events prior to me cutting my wrists

Why do you do it, is the first thing they ask

It forces me to dig deeper into my past

I don't know really, why I do what I do

Once upon a time, I was just like you

I thought cutting was stupid and that there were other things you could do

When I finally slid the blade across my wrist

I thought to myself, what the hell am I doing

But i kept continuing, until I saw blood ooze

I imagined bleeding purples, blacks, and blues

When I put it down,

I felt so weak

I closed my eyes and was engulfed in sleep

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741