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Taking Away Evan and the Knife |
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Okay, this poem is about when my parents told me I could never talk to Evan again. He's been a really great friend to me, and helped me to stop cutting. But when I was told I couldn't talk to him again, I wanted to kill them. So it's about that, and the battle that went on against myself to decide what to do... cut myself.
Why did I do it?
Why must this be?
I never should have shared my life
because now you've been taken from me.
My life's new meaning,
my only understanding friend,
the wolf of my life.
It's all my fault,
I had done wrong,
It's time to pull out the knife.
My mother yells at me,
never telling me what's wrong.
I scrape the sharper against the blade,
its note's a broken bell.
I figured it has to do
with what I shared with you.
But now there's no turning back
to undo what has been done.
My sexual urges have caused me trouble,
we have been torn apart.
I test the blade against my finger,
it's still not enough sharp.
Communication has been broken,
I sharpen the knife still more.
My heart cries out for one I love,
enough that my voice is now sore.
They will never understand
how hard my life really is.
They've taken away the one true thing
that made my anger fizz.
Now it burns, now it blazes,
I strike for them to pay.
I sharpen harder, I sharpen faster,
my anger shall now display.
I yearn to gain control
of what I might do.
I mustn't kill them for revenge,
that plan is not true.
I must control my anger,
I'm getting out of hand.
The blade is becoming razor sharp,
before soon it will expand.
I fight inside my head
between the dark and light.
I need to know the difference,
between the wrong and right.
I'm torturing myself, I'm killing myself,
crying out of control.
I settle on a plan, one I know off hand,
everything is ready.
"No," I say to myself,
"Please help me," I plead.
I place the blade against my arm,
no one can help my need.
I see the scars of times before,
the pain of my past.
I press the knife a little harder
the p***k will always last.
My vision spins, my world tilts,
a searing pain colides.
My breath quivers, my body shivers,
the freezing cold takes over.
The blade trails along my skin,
a scarlet red appears.
A relieving feeling comes over me,
my anger I cannot feel.
I clean up the cut
and cover my arm.
The damage now is done.
Another sad memory
added to the others.
Nothing can ever be undone.
 Vanilla Wolf · Thu Feb 23, 2006 @ 11:36pm · 5 Comments |
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