No One Knows The Real Me
Just a little cautionary note: This poem may be
TRIGGERY for some. Keep yourself safe
and please don't read it if you think it'll badly affect you. Take
Care, xxx R
No one knows the real me
I’ve put up walls so no one can see
How bad I really feel inside
And how my eyes have cried and cried
With everything that’s in my mind
Always there with no end to find
No answer to end the pain in my head
That makes it hard for me to get out of bed
It kills the point in everything
And leaves no point in anything
It kills the point in life itself
But I’m stuck on this hell-filled shelf
Stuck with this never-ending depression
Life dogged by a constant pitch-black depression
That’s eating up my heart and soul
And bit by bit my life, my whole
Destroying everything inside
My will to live has long since died
Desperation set in long ago
Down the route of self-harm I go
Cutting my arm to release the pain
I feel like doing it again and again
Cutting my arm to release the pressure
So bad, off the scale, impossible to measure
The scissors calling me again and again
No stability of life can I ever maintain
With the call of their blades so shiny and sharp
With one quick cut maybe some pain will depart
But when it abates it’s straight back again
And all that’s left to show are the scratches and pain
But it doesn’t work for long, if at all
As I hear always the beck of suicide’s call
Wanting to answer but too scared to dare
Suicide seems the answer but still it does scare
But it would end the torture, end the pain
I would never have to suffer this shit again
But however it tempts, I’m too scared to try
And end up just wanting to scream and cry
At the injustice and unfairness of it all
Wishing I could have answered the beck of suicide’s call
Elisabeth Emmett © 2001
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