It only started off as a little scratch,
but it grew little by little,
It became a little cut,
like the one your cat might make
Eventually it grew some more,
and turned into a cut,
then emotions make it spread,
up my arms and down my legs.
Now after some weeks had passed,
the cut turned into more,
There was no more will to live
and there was no one to live for.
And then the time had come,
and the show had came to an end
the rope was carefully wound
and then accepted my fate.
-
Author:
Willow_Wander (
Offline) - Published: December 19th, 2017 11:12
- Category: Sad
- Views: 30
Offline)
Comments3
Powerful writing there. I love the way you compare mental illness with physical wounds. It's 1. More impactful, 2. A wonderful juxtaposition, and 3. A true comparison.
Good work
~Shadow
This poem is very well written and beautiful, I too have struggled with self harm and suicide thought but please believe me there is so much to live for, i was at the darkest point in my life and now i am so thankful that i'm still here. Please, don't commit suicide those you leave behind will never heal from it. you are loved and valuable.
Thank you for all your kind comments
i really appriciate them
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.