This is going to hurt. This is going to sting.
Yeah, that’s what everyone has told me.
I’m scared. I’m worried. I’m overthinking.
My wrists—they’ve been so clean,
But the urge to punish myself,
As I’ve been taught for so long,
Is strong.
People say I’m weak. People say I’m numb.
People say I can’t—because I didn’t.
People, What people?
Do I know them?
The only person telling me this is her.
And she’s cruel to me.
She takes any chance she gets to make fun of me.
She destroyed my happiness.
She makes me want to understand,
But I’m here, crying myself to sleep.
Because I can’t breathe.
I can’t have a break.
I can’t just leave this world and say it will be okay.
I can’t just scar up my body,
Sculpting what I want instead of what I have.
And the scars from the past show—it’s not easy to do.
I’m scared.
I am.
I’m weak.
I’m hurt.
I’m the girl in the mirror who wishes to fade.
I’m a girl with brown hair, hazel eyes,
With an ugly body.
The girl who’s not scared of poetry that’s unforgiving.
I’m the girl who is so cruel to her body.
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Author:
Violet_Writes (
Offline) - Published: October 14th, 2025 09:27
- Comment from author about the poem: Not the best, but it's something.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 6
- Users favorite of this poem: NinjaGirl
Offline)
Comments2
I'm her too--ironically I've also been fighting the urge lately. It's one of those things...hang in there. I will too. Very touching poem.
A dark and sad poem of self punishment not just physically but emotionally and mentally trying to make oneself something that one is not, something that one thinks would be more acceptable to others. Why please I say one can not buy love. It is given or not and better to be loved for who one is than for something one pretends to be. Nicely written
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