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Best Friend

The situation intensifies, I can’t get calm The only solution is to again self-harm Oh the joy as I imagine the first cut Thankful for a solution to get me out of my rut I prepare myself and the equipment I need Like an junkie its addiction I feed I close my door and bare my flesh Not caring that afterwards I’ll be a bloody mess My heart beating fast, the tears begin to pour I’m sorry but I could not just endure any more The glistening silver blade, not big in size Is like a trophy, and that I won first prize The tissues ready, so now I can begin The first cut is superficial and thin But the release it gives, my tears fall stronger Knowing I won’t have to endure my pain for much longer As I think of the hurt and as I think of my pain Sends me slashing my legs again and again ‘You’re a stupid cow, you’re just an annoyance’ The self-harm is my only reward and comeuppance My leg now red, I can’t even see the cuts I’ve made The power of self-harm over my mind it did invade I pick up my tissue and start to clean up my work of art Knowing the whole process soon will again re-start My arms tell the stories of the scars that I now bear My tears tell of my pain when you think there’s none there But then after a while the razor becomes a useless metal Surely I’d get more relief from my iron or boiling water from my kettle I start to smile when I think of my flesh beginning to singe And that no longer will you have to hear me whinge For I will have found a new friend who will always be around In the midnight hour the shiny sharp metal can be found And in the twinkling of an eye, my flesh will become bare And with each cut to the skin, I say goodbye to every care If you have troubles and the problem you feel you cannot mend Then please let me introduce you to my grey shiny silver best friend 2 September 2014

Copyright © | Year Posted 2014




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Date: 9/3/2014 4:48:00 PM
My wife works with young women with eating disorders and some of them are also into cutting. When I am under stress I chew on my fingers, sometimes till they bleed. I can't seem to stop the compulsion so I think I understand how you feel on some level. With the pain there is some weird release. This is a superbly written honest account. I applaude you. My heart and soul poem is called the Ripping.
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Michelle Bailey
Date: 9/4/2014 10:53:00 AM
Thank you for ur comment Richard, I find poetry a great way of expressing things I struggle to verbalise, I am going to try and find the poem u wrote.

Book: Shattered Sighs