Cutting

By , Pickerington, OH
lusting for a touch
of metal on skin.
you know you're still addicted,
to this one deadly sin...
pain that feels so good,
scars made up of old lies...
forever the girl in the corner
who just sits there and cries.

trace the scissors on your flesh,
and feel it sink in...
this feelings can't be reached
through vodka nor gin.
relish in the numbness,
let it fill your head...
continuously ignoring
what all your friends said.





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writer-in-pearls said...
Dec. 23, 2009 at 10:39 pm
this is a beautiful, sad poem. Try using writing in place of cutting next time your upset
 
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