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Ghosts Of Yesterday
Author: Mike

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I cheat death as I slash at my arms,
My legs, my wrists.

Cutting deeper into the soft, tender flesh
Each time.

Hoping against hope that the next cut
Will be the last.

But it never is.

Liquid pain seeping out of my
Ever breaking skin.

The scars of time showing clear across the
Canvas that is my body.

White with age, yet still painful
To look at.

Reminders of the past, not too long ago.
Just last night..

A past full of tears, of bottled anger,
Of regrets.

Hurtful memories playing over and over in my mind,
Willing me to suffer.

And I do, with each waking moment,
Each passing day.

Each poisonous breath I draw into my
Already blackened lungs.

I deserve to die..
So why can't I?

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Comments on this poem/writing:

Senko (70.189.32.2) -- Saturday, November 26 2005, 04:36 am

.......

i really feel you on this one...i mean REALLY....
anna (24.17.111.85) -- Saturday, November 26 2005, 05:06 am

whoa

mike, your poems scare me. not because they are so heart breaking but because they remind me too much of myself and they are so true in so many people.it scares me deeply. your a wonderful writer keep it up.
Mike (82.35.78.186) -- Tuesday, November 29 2005, 08:23 pm

..

Wow, thanks a lot. What can I say, my poems scare me too.. I suppose I never realise my true feelings until I've written them down..
Yanny (88.110.246.245) -- Saturday, December 3 2005, 10:52 pm

...

Scars are really like the ghost of yesterday, so i think this title fit really well with the contents of the poem.
 
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