Reflections of a Blade, the Cut, the Reasons, and the Damage Done

Reflections of a Blade, the Cut, the Reasons, and the Damage Done

Dedication
To all those who seek relief in pain, blood and numbness,

this is for you. 

To remind you that you are not alone, and that

everybody hurts, sometimes.

Its sad we must resort to such measures,

but if it keeps you alive and going, than so be it.

People do care, I care for you,

and many other do.

Stay strong brothers and sisters,

we may fight a psychological war, but it is ours to win.

Everyone care,

We care,

and I care.

I love you all.

xx

I hold her lightly in my hand,

Carefully twirling her between my fingers.

Her edge left folded,

Safe from me,

For now.

I flick her out,

The shimmer of the light,

Blinds me for a moment.

I continue to twirl,

Watching her dance within the light.

My heart rate starts to build,

For the time is almost nigh.

I feel the fear and anxiety,

That I must always feel.

For without these two,

I do not know,

If I shall go too far.

And in my pain,

I shall go far,

Never to return again.

The metal is cool beneath my finger,

Refreshing to the touch.

The smell of aging blood,

Drifts right up to my nose.

I think upon a place,

Where I shall lay her edge.
In places no one shall suspect,

Or ask me funny questions.

Or ever come to find out,

Just what they really are.

With kit beside me to,

I make my final decision.

It is not but me and you,

My good little cutting blade.

Time to do your job.

The time is ripe,

I take a breath,

I prepare for the pain.

That is but now,

A single moment away.

A pick and choose my bicep,

I feel the blade against my skin,

And slowly increase pressure.

I slowly pull the blade across my skin,

Maintaining constant pressure.

I can feel the skin as it slowly,

Reluctantly comes apart.

A cry escapes from my lips,

Followed by another.

I quietly begin to weep,

As I go back for a second go.

And slowly I see the red,

Erupt from within.

Coursing it’s way across my arm,

Representing my pain.

Slowly my arm begins to numb,

As I do it yet again.

Three, four, five, six,

I lose track yet again.

I drag a tissue across my arm,

Mopping up the blood.

I place a dressing across my arm,

In a bit of haste.
Covering up the scream from inside.

Just in case I change my mind,
And do it all again.

I still can here the scream from within,

Of pains that I have caused.

And still can hear the sounds,

Of the hurtful words they said to me,

Just the other day.

And so with a grimace,

I pull my waist band down.

The scars from pains past,

Looking back at me.
I don’t remember when or how,

There are just so many of them.

But still they remind me,

Of days just like these.

I hold the knife quite firmly,

And prepare yet again.

The blade it glides,

Ever so slowly,

Breaking up my skin.

The pain I feel,

Is not enough,

For all that I have done.

I tell my friends,

And watch them hurt,

And yet do nothing at all.

At such a thought,

A fierce flame of fury,

Makes itself known unto me.

Passing a serious compulsion,

I feel I must obey.

I hold the knife in just one hand,

I want to take my life.

I want to pay for all I’ve done,

And this is how I shall.

I feel for my heart with my left hand,

Finding it quite quickly.

I take a breath,

Maybe my last.

I prepare for my death.
But before I do my will,

I change my mind.
A last minute reprieve,

I am saved yet again.

Cos you said hello.

I am scared,

Very scared.
I nearly did it yet again,

How many time more,

Will this occur?

Before the reprieve comes too late.

For death comes swiftly,

To the unsure,

Whilst to the sure,

I not does do.

I seek it, yet I don’t,

I fear it, but I don’t,

I crave it, cos I don’t.

I know not what I want,

Anymore for myself right now.

Some say why do such stupid things?

To them it makes no sense.

But to me it makes perfect sense,

More than lots of things do right now.

More sense than school, work or play,

Or even life itself.

I see the love, yet cannot feel.

Like a glass shield parts us from each other,

No matter how we try,

We do not reach,

And that hurts me but a lot.

I can only feel the pain and tears,

And sorrow that fills my heart.

But it does not do to dwell on things,

And affairs of the heart.

Whilst not but a lot,

The pain and tears will do for now,

At least I am alive.

I cut to rationalise the pain,

That I am often feeling inside.

For often I am screaming,

When I am smiling back at you.

I cut to kill the beast,

That lurks beneath the skin.

That by somehow bleeding me,

It might kill the bloody beast.

I cut to punish,

And cause me pain,

For all the wrong I’ve done.

To atone for past evils,

And future one’s too.

I cut to feel the pain,

That makes me feel alive,

For many a time,

I do feel numb,

For my pain does dull my sense.

I cut because my past,

It still does hurt me much.

The skeletons of days long gone,

Are still within my closet.

I cut to feel in control,

For my life, it lacks control.

It gives me power, to determine,

My own destiny.

Trauma sadness and the blues,

They all help me cut too.

My hatred of myself,

Must always be a factor.

The love I crave,

I feel not here,

It is but all I want.

And perhaps it is my mother,

Who never loved me much.

That put me on this goddam path,

I feel that I must cut.

And many people say,

It is but a childish act.

Attention seeking at best,

Psychotic at worst.

Whilst some may say, it is a cry,

For they help that they desire.
Perhaps it is,

Perhaps it isn’t.

I know not really a lot.

But to those who criticise,

Make fun of, or ignore.

I say to thee,

The following,

I am doing my bloody best.

Try waking in the morning,

And looking in disgust.

You hate your body, and yourself
And don’t forget the scars,

Knowing you’ll add another one,

Later on tonight.

You fuck it up,

And you hate yourself,

What is happening to you?

You go to school,

Your friends see it,

And they see the empty eyes,

No longer happily chattering away,

Like they all know you once did.

You survive the day,

Make it home and start work,

Getting distracted yet again,

You know you’ll pay for that.

And so when you can stand the day no longer,

You head back off to bed.

Reaching for the blade,

That beckons for the skin.

You add another scar,

And another and another.

Whilst covering the screams,

That inside you have been making.
Try living for a week or two,

Just as many do,

And you will be not so fast,

To judge me yet again.
So to those that mumble and they bumble,

And make us all feel like scum,

It is but all and none as well,

But merely my way of expressing,

When I am really screaming,

Cos I know you don’t want to know.

And whilst the blade does do glisten,

As I prepare to cut again.

Before this day is out,

I shall leave another one.

To show my pain to the world,

And help me make some sense to me,

In such a brutal world.