Now is the time.
Arm Art.
When I was young, I was good at art.
Spent a while practising the craft.
With the moonlight through the window.
I would rest my arm on the pillow.
With a sharp compass point in hand.
I would start etching out my plan.
At first the gentle mark on the skin.
Then I would let the drawing begin.
What I would cut could be anything.
Sometimes it was stupid little things.
Could be the latest girlfriend’s name.
Maybe a noughts and crosses’ game.
Outline done when happy with everything.
Then I would push the compass further in.
Watching as my young arms slowly bled.
Dying all my artwork a nice bright red.
Seeing the blood flow was a slow release.
It kind of brought me a little inner peace.
The deep cuts never caused me much pain.
However, many times I did it over again.
At the time I felt it was setting myself free.
Yet all these years later.
The scars and the memories are still with me.
Tobani May 2025.
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Author:
Tobani / Nataiella (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 11th, 2025 02:40
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 55
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Comments7
Yes the things we do when we are young we often regret later.A charming and interesting tale. Well done
Thank you
This poem left me sad that at a young age such behavior was necessary to leave you feeling free. We all leave marks on ourselves some good some bad from tattoos to scars and we are stuck with them through life as marks of the past. Well written Tobani
Thank you
Yes, cutters, like anorexics have always left me at a loss when I encountered them in hospital, and I'd be the first to admit that the utilisation of those labels should not be considered acceptable in a therapeutic environment. But I'm not there now. Only glad I did not be required to make decisions with respect to treatment.
Thanks for your input, Tobani - every little contribution helps.
It was common practice in the children's homes I was in, thank you for your feedback, hope you are having a good day
Now this is a powerful piece—raw, confessional, and tender beneath its sharpness.🕊️🙏🏻
Thank you for your kind words, means much
Most welcome dear friend.
This painfully familiar plight of too many, and as you apparently well know, youths at that, has a darker root than most prefer to acknowledge whence I'll not tell you presently. Beautifully rendered with excellent imagery and a haunting poignancy. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you, enjoy the rest of your day
Wow, my friend! You captured the quiet ritual and ache of those moments with such clarity and honesty. It’s haunting—but also brave. That last stanza especially lingers for me…scars as silent witnesses to our younger selves. Indeed. And so they are. A fave from me. Well done. 🌹👏
Thank you, have a great weekend
You are most welcome. You too!
Those scars and memories of our past will never die Tobani.
Andy
Thank you, have a great weekend
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