She cuts herself

To ease her emotional turmoil 

She hates herself

Can't even bear to look at her reflection 

She enjoys seeing her blood

As it drips down to the floor

She crys

The pain is too unbearable 

She breaks down

Because she believes her life is worthless

She feels alone

Because she shut everybody out

She is hurting

But no one seems to notice her pain


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Dripping blood

We should put all the poems about cutting into a folder titled Self-mutilation. Then all the cutters would post their dreary repetitive blood-letting drivel in it. Gush, gush, drip drip, crimson this, smeared that, every cutting poem is the same. Give it a rest!