Below is the poem entitled Madison Part 3 which was written by poet
Jusino. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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Yes, she loves art.
She craves for the flow of the brush,
on her broken canvas, it fell apart.
No one knows though, so hush.
She likes to imagine her razor as the brush.
Herself as the canvas, where she makes her art.
When she feels depressed or something such,
she paints her picture, to cover up her broken heart.
The blood rushes down her skin,
as her tears fall down her face.
She wishes she could leave the life she is in,
and go to a different place.
She stopped using her wrists,
for everyone saw.
So she used her thighs, she couldn't resist.
The artwork is still raw.
She liked her scars...
It showed something to her,
that maybe she lost the battle, but not the war.
That is what she inferred.
Her best friend and her lover
are far away from her reach.
She fears that it is over...
She feels sour like a peach.
Her dear best friend moved states away.
Her dear lover has no way to contact her.
Please, make the pain go away...
She says as she strokes her paintbrush against her.
Everyone found out about her secret,
and made it into some big deal.
She wishes they all could just forget,
since they acted like it wasn't real.
They don't understand!
They keep asking the same questions over and over.
"Why did you do that to your hand?"
"You really should recover."
"No. I don't want recovery."
She thinks to herself.
"I don't even have bravery
to accept help."
"Get away from me.
I don't need this."
No one seems to see
that the cuts to her feel like bliss.
She goes to her room and isolates herself.
Goes on her phone to contact her best friend.
This friend really knows how to help...
She's been there since beginning to end.
"Oh, if only she was here.
If only she didn't leave.
This was all my fault, just as I feared.
She knows that's what I believe..."
She thinks this a lot,
that everything is her fault.
She hates that she got caught,
now... it's a shame if she fell apart.
She hides everything,
doesn't want to talk about it.
That's her routine,
just keep quiet.
She returns to the brush,
paints her artwork.
Be quiet, shush.
This takes a lot of work.