Title: Razor Blade
by Kim from Wales | in writing, poetry
I will tell you if you are willing to listen;
though the words are hard to find,
I will let you see the honest truth,
spoken from a cutter's mind.
The razor blade became my very best friend
in my young teenage years;
I released the pain that hid inside
through a different type of tears.
The shining, sharp edges of my only friend,
so soon to hit a vein,
crimson rivers forming patterns,
- the bittersweet sort of pain.
My soul so slowly disappeared,
I could feel that it was gone,
but I never really had the time to care,
for I had my blade to rely on.
I always made sure to fake my smile,
I never gave them a reason to worry,
but each and every crimson scar
hid a secret story.
Every day, the same routine,
I put on my fake disguise,
and the razor blade helped me remove the pain
they could not read from my eyes.
Everything was dead in this uncaring world,
yet they didn't see how it hurt,
I couldn't express the pain I felt,
just choked on every word.
Therefore I relied on my dearest friend,
the one who pain releases,
my life was like a blackened puzzle
full of missing pieces.
But there was one piece that was missing
from the very painful start,
and I believe that missing piece
was the one that belonged to my heart.
When I was younger I was a terrible mess, I always used to cut my wrists with anything I could get my hands on, knives, sharpener blades, I'd even snap my CDs if I was really desperate. I couldn't give it up, it became my addiction so I went to a counselor who told me to put my feelings into words and I did, slowly over time I did give up cutting and now help others who were in the same place as I was.
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