An anthem for those who self harm.
I've wanted to die. Needed to cry.
A short explanation of how I got here.
I could scream, but it wouldn’t be enough.
I hate it when people see my scars. I can feel their judgement.
There have been days, when I have wanted to quit.
Take me to the wild, and let me be free. Let me explore, the land, the coast, the sea.
Why do we cut ourselves? A simple question.
A complex answer.
My scars are like the stars. Too many to count.
Goodbye knife. I don't need you anymore.
A short poem about facing a craving.
I know you are out there. And I know you're about to self harm.
I’m depressed and angry. It is a bad combination.
Love keeps me from cutting.
I want to die, nearly every day. Life is hard, painful, frustrating.
Some sad days come, and I start to feel numb, sick to my stomach, at the state of affairs.
I can’t find relief, in anything but blood.