Bleeding Through

This poem expresses how I deal with stress and anxiety by self injuring. I'm not proud that I self injure but by writing this I hoped to try and help other people understand why I do it and how it makes my feel. It's my coping mechanism.


Bleeding Through

To live, to die,
To smile, to cry,
Needing a friend,
To help me by.

Suffering in silence,
Feeding my fear,
Bleeding my heart,
Not thinking clear.

Hollow and empty,
Lifeless remains,
Shyness binds,
The fear to my veins.

The knife in my arm,
The ache in my chest,
It's a matter of time,
Til It's laid to rest.

Bleeding profusely,
The wounds so deep,
Soon it is time,
To eternally sleep.

Stresses and anguish,
Making me fall,
Exposing my weakness,
Consuming my all.

Scars ever present,
Fresh from the blade,
Tears on my pillow,
The mess I have made.

Bludgened and slashed,
Through to the vein,
"What have I done?"
Echoes in my brain.

Becoming a slave,
To the stress in my life,
I try to find solace,
At the hands of my knife.

Cutting the flesh,
The pain slows away,
Yet instantly guilt,
Fills the array.

"Why did I do it?"
I think to myself,
Not giving first thought,
To life or health.

That split second feeling,
Of total relief,
Now filled me with anger,
Sorrow and grief.

The stress still remained,
And now there was more,
Blood flowing freely,
Onto the floor.

It wasn't helpful,
What I had done,
But for that short moment,
The stresses had gone.

I'll do it again,
I know that for sure,
But I'll never understand it,
As the blood spiils once more.


(c)2008 David McGarry