deepundergroundpoetry.com
Day 27
27 Days?
Has it really been that long since I've lifted the blade?
It feels like it's been longer.
And those very rare times when I wanted so badly to watch my blood pour, I held back.
I held back the pain, the urge, the drive to cut myself.
Like a alcoholic or a drug addict,
I've gone throw withdrawl.
I shake.
I twitch.
I bite my lip.
I hit my my fist into my hand.
I cry.
I yell.
I do anything to stop me from cutting myself.
I think about the blood.
How beautiful it was when it would run down my arms.
I watch my old scars heal with progress.
And when my mother makes me want to cut.
When my emotions get to out of control.
When my thoughts get all jumbled up.
I look for Him.
My love's confidence in me.
The pride that he holds onto that is me being his girlfriend.
He's proud of me for doing this.
I want him to be proud of me.
That's why I'm fighting this battle.
He is the reason that I am fighting.
I love him too much to cut.
I want to be with him too much to want to cut.
His arms restrain me when I get out of control.
His chest is were I bury my face when I cry.
His voice calms me.
His kisses relax me.
His embraces hold me together.
He saves me every day.
And helps me keep my promise,
more than I have ever wanted to keep a promise before.
I wish that I had known that this is what love is suppose to feel like two years ago.
I wish I had known to talk to the guy in the lunch room more.
I wish that I had found him sooner than I did.
I want to reach back in time and calm the sixteen year old me
and tell her that she will get through the pain,
only to find more pain but in the midst of all that pain,
she would find her saviour,
her hero and the love of her life.
Has it really been that long since I've lifted the blade?
It feels like it's been longer.
And those very rare times when I wanted so badly to watch my blood pour, I held back.
I held back the pain, the urge, the drive to cut myself.
Like a alcoholic or a drug addict,
I've gone throw withdrawl.
I shake.
I twitch.
I bite my lip.
I hit my my fist into my hand.
I cry.
I yell.
I do anything to stop me from cutting myself.
I think about the blood.
How beautiful it was when it would run down my arms.
I watch my old scars heal with progress.
And when my mother makes me want to cut.
When my emotions get to out of control.
When my thoughts get all jumbled up.
I look for Him.
My love's confidence in me.
The pride that he holds onto that is me being his girlfriend.
He's proud of me for doing this.
I want him to be proud of me.
That's why I'm fighting this battle.
He is the reason that I am fighting.
I love him too much to cut.
I want to be with him too much to want to cut.
His arms restrain me when I get out of control.
His chest is were I bury my face when I cry.
His voice calms me.
His kisses relax me.
His embraces hold me together.
He saves me every day.
And helps me keep my promise,
more than I have ever wanted to keep a promise before.
I wish that I had known that this is what love is suppose to feel like two years ago.
I wish I had known to talk to the guy in the lunch room more.
I wish that I had found him sooner than I did.
I want to reach back in time and calm the sixteen year old me
and tell her that she will get through the pain,
only to find more pain but in the midst of all that pain,
she would find her saviour,
her hero and the love of her life.
Published 28th Feb 2012
| Edited 14th Sep 2017
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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