Cut Poems - Poems about Cut

THE PLANT CUT,I DON'T KNOW Oh! how I worry about them I don't know whose name The plants red and yellow Whose pain I hardly swallow. What means of that Britishian But geninuely I like as vegetation, I'm hurt they were ut rudely Only for this that are toxicly With long horn,but I swear One day the all cut,cause faults bear....

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sober now, and every second screams louder than the last. the silence i begged for now drips like acid through my spine. when i was high, the world floated — hazy, dull-edged, a soft lie i could breathe in. without choking on memory. without shaking from truth. but now i wake up to light too sharp for eyes that have seen too much, and sleep...

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Ouch! Please mommy stop it’s not fair I pulled on her robe as she pulled on my hair Halfway through combing out my long curls mother hurries to get to the other girls Gentle brushes won’t tame unruly locks now grown sentimental first hair cut marks a milestone I never thought I’d cut it off though she’d threat But too many...

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a paper cut, inevitable no matter how hard you try to avoid them, everyone knows the pain of it, yet someone else gets one and you say its only a small cut only hurts a small bit. when looking at someone you never would never know they have one unless they told you, it is easy to hide the pain...

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My hair used to be all black Later, mostly black tuft with white wisp Now, a bunch of white ...

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As a kid my hair was a very easy fix, just pull it back with a rubber band into a ponytail. As a teen a ponytail was not going to work, off to the hair shop with picture in hand. I sat in the chair and said, I want to look like this picture. I sat dreaming about my great new...

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the silver birch it likes to hide so as you search at eventide you find it there with many friends playing poker through the night the common oak a wise old man an aging folk since time began grandfathers of the forest they speak myth and folklore when they can the sycamore with helicopter seeds sets out its store among the weeds then grows to be big and...

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Bright orange lobsters pointed their claws at their brother When someone asked who had cut the cheese The audience began to have a bit of a laugh with their mother For they were outing each other, with a bit of ease Who cut the cheese? Asked the magistrate again. They pointed at each other; the sorry chaps They probably both did...

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The tearing wasn't neat, no surgeon's precise incision, but a raw, ragged edge, like fabric ripped by a sudden, brutal force. Air, thick and unfamiliar, rushed into spaces once sealed, private. Organs, usually shy and tucked away, now blinked in the harsh light, vulnerable, exposed. Words, once carefully chosen, now spilled out, a crimson tide, unfiltered, screaming truths the polite tongue had always held captive. The inside, a landscape never meant for...

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He said he’d watched a tutorial. He said symmetry was a myth fueled by Big Geometry. I laughed. That was my first mistake. My second was passing him the scissors without asking him about his dominant hand. (It was vibes. His hand was vibes.) Snip. He called it edgy. I called it accidentally spiritual— because seeing your own scalp before coffee is a kind of awakening. He apologized...

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I want them to tell their children about us. Make them afraid of what love can do. Make them sit up at night, wide-eyed, whispering our names like a warning. Say-they clawed at each other's throats, they swallowed their own pride until it rotted inside them, they stayed even when it tore them apart. And in the end, love left...

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jilted a bone deep laceration profusely bleeding out... sudden ...

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darn it~ I cut the grass too short...

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a bad workman always blames his tools so that bad cut was my fault!!! ...

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My paper cut is infected Cause it was neglected Bandaids won’t solve the issue Some alcohol on a tissue Slice up all my fingers Cut my arms Tear my veins Rip my heart Why are you vain You got some blood on your hands Just wash them Pretend to understand You think your such a man By...

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