Cutting Edge


Standing in front of the mirror staring at my bare body in the reflection, 

Disgust filling my head, a pit forming in my stomach.

Scars decorate my body, marking all over, some short, some longer, some straight, more crooked,

As if my body was used to play tic tac toe.

I grasp a piece of my mom’s old broken vase and place the rough edge against my skin,

“What am I doing?” I ask with tears forming in the corner of my eyes.

Giving yourself what you deserve.

The voice in my head replies.

So I cut.

Look at how ugly you are.

the voice continues,

Another cut,

No one could ever love you.

The voice gets louder,

Another cut,

You’re worthless!!

I shove the shard deeper and rip through the skin,

Blood starts leaking from within,

Trickling down my arm,

Dripping onto the floor, staining the snow white carpet.

Tears drip from my face mixing in with the dark red blood.

I watch, paralyzed, numb.

I look down at the dripping vase piece,


The cuts hurt my body but the pain numbs my heart.


  • Author: Reyas (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: August 5th, 2018 08:32
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 27


  • orchidee

    It happens in reality. But I hope it's not a self-write. Oops should be marked 18+ maybe?
    You will make my 18+ watchdog bark. Woof! Be quiet, Rover!
    (That's killed the tension of the poem. Whoops! heehee.)
    Sorry, I needed to. I get shudders on this theme, having heard some true stories.

  • JasmineUK

    A lovely piece with real insight,
    Giving us a glimpse of the inner fight.
    Drown out that foul voice of deceit,
    With every true voice in praise replete.

  • dusk arising

    Physical to overcome the mental. Incisive harsh action punishes the reader with reality.

  • serenity-poetry

    This poem is very dark, but it's honest.
    I think there is so much power in truthful poetry, and I really respect you for writing this.
    Awesome work.

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