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The cut on your arm said i'll be your best kept secret,
But that was a lie.
It showed and everyone noticed.
Now your wondering if you should talk to someone or just hold it in longer.
Your thinking you should have kept it hid better.
But as you may now, some secerects always show. | | |
| Last night i cut 6 times on my chest and thigh. Plus i carved ALONE into my thigh. I just can`t help myself anymore, when something goes wrong out comes that sharp object. I either just cut or i carve my emotions into my body. I don`t know what to do anymore... i feel so alone and rejected. I wanna tell someone but i can`t, i can`t get the courage or i`m scared of being rejected or just screamed at... well if you have any advice i`d love to hear it.
Daddy I`m Sorry, I Truely Am. | | |
| Last night i cut myself 14 times {6 on my chest, the rest on my thigh} plus i carved S H into my thigh last night. The S H stand for still here. I don't know if i should tell my dad or not... i think i might, i`m just scared of him telling my mom. I'm going over to my dad's this weekend so i guess we'll see what i do. Ta ta | | |
| A Good Poem I Found Somewhere.....
Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
He wrote a poem
And he called it chops
Because that was the name of his dog
And that’s what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an a
And a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
And read it to his aunts
That was the year father Tracy
Took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
With tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X’s
And he has to ask his father what the X’s meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it
Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
He wrote a poem
And he called it autumn
Because that was the name of the season
And that’s what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an a
And asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
Because of its new paint
And the kids told him
That father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pew
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
With thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
When he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
His mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad when he cried for him to do it
Once on a paper torn from his notebook
He wrote a poem
And he called it Innocence: A Question
Because that was the question about his girl
And that’s what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
And a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
Because he never showed her
That was the year that father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
Of the Apostle’s creed went
And he caught his sister
Making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
Or even talked
And the girl around the corner wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
But he kissed her anyway
Because that was the thing to do
And at three AM he tucked himself into bed
His father snoring soundly
That’s why on the back of a brown paper bag
He tried another poem
And he called it absolutely nothing
Because that’s what it was really all about
And he gave himself an a
And a slash on each dammed wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
Because this time he didn’t think
He could reach the kitchen | | |
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