Only The Knife
5 November, 2004
Author: Mere
I took the knife and carved a line,
All the redness made a shine,
Another saddened chance I took,
This is what I read in books.
It stung and hurt, and so I cried,
It was like my body died,
No one knows how sad I am,
I wonder if anyone gives a damn.
I hate myself and always will,
Sometimes I feel the need to kill,
Everyone asks me why I drink,
Cause now I find it hard to think.
You must think that I'm a freak,
But you don't know how I am weak,
This is how I'll always be,
I find it really hard to see.
My friends all hate me, that I know,
Someday, Somehow, I will grow,
I love my scars, I don't want to hide,
It's awful trying to abide.
Connie say that I should quit,
She just doesn't know I don't give a shit,
I have more problems than I can count,
Only the knife I love to mount.
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Comments on this poem/writing:
| Diamond (205.188.117.10) -- Thursday, May 12 2005, 10:22 pm this is a really good poem....it reminds me of me i cut too and i got to that point where i dont give a sh*t either....you really have a gift a good way with words...keep writing...and even though i dont know you you will always have a friend with me.... |
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