Pain Addiction

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Another one I wrote about why I started cutting. I started because my step mom, who I was close to, died two years ago and I picked up the habit a year or so ago. I finally stopped, but it's been hard.

Submitted: October 29, 2011

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Submitted: October 29, 2011

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I stared into my rusty blade

And threw it away

Finally got it in my head

I didn't need it today

 

Stepped outside to a clear sky

Sat down and tried to think

Why did I begin this habit?

Then my heart began to shrink

 

I did it because you were gone

And found some weird relief

But I don't need help right now,

That's my main belief

 

I'm back to where the razor ran

Across my scarred-up wrist

They didn't seem to pop so I

Balled up my left fist

 

Why did I keep doing this?

I've always hated pain

So why is it so hard to not

Spill my blood again?

 

Am I that lost and lonely?

So empty inside?

That my only friend's a razor,

And thoughts of suicide?

 

A flower falls into my llap

A little boy had dropped it

"You can keep it, pretty lady,

Please put it in your pocket."

 

I must have smiled really wide

Cause he had smiled too

I placed it in my pocket

Not feeling so very blue

 

But when I looked up to him

There was just a note

No little boy in sight

But this is what he wrote:

 

"I know your little secret

And why you balled your fist.

Do you believe in angels,

When they disappear in mist?

 

"I know why you do it

Because she's gone, right?

She sent me here to check on you

You gave her a good fright."

 

I read it over and over

Beginning to cry

She was really watching me

Then I looked up at the sky

 

"I can't stop" I whispered

And ran back to my blade

Picked it up and held it

And my tears began to fade

 

Why I found comfort with it

I'll never know

I slid it across my wrist and

Let the blood flow

 

I watched the bright red beads

Drip down from my finger

Maybe she'll come back again

If I let these drops linger

 

So I continued my routine

But she never came

I thought it was hopeless

Until I heard my name

 

"Do you want my razor?"

I asked a month later

"Yes, please," You said

Then became my savior.

 

My days are always sunny now

But now I still remember

Those jagged lines across my skin

I stopped making before September.

 


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