Here's what I wrote now, to release myself from a dangerous phase of depression: self-harm. Mind you, I don't cut myself...at least not with blades. Not anymore...only did it the time I tried to slit my wrists, and that was a one-time thing. I nail-bite though, including the skin..and if restricted, I tend to pull at the skin with my fingers - psychotic, much? I usually do it when stressed out, and it's involuntary...the result being my fingers are all injured, and they look messed up. Lookin' for a cure...Inshalla 5ayr. It IS the longest poem I've ever written - even beats 'My Soul's Demise'. And...it's based on a true story: MY story =)
The Loner
She stares lifelessly at the sullen face
Pulling back her once glossy hair
She wonders what lead her to this place
This haven of hopelessness and despair
She looks at her blood-stained fingers
Her teeth biting into her quivering lips
Tears flow endlessly as her gaze lingers
On the blade she holds in her grip
She trembles as shivers run up her spine
Aware of cold metal pressed against her skin
Images of their beautiful smiles cloud her mind
As she feels her heated blood pulsating within
She remembers how they smiled hypocritically in her face
She remembers how many blatantly lied, claiming they care
She realizes then, with mockery their words were laced
And that hatred burned behind their glassy stares
She would speak, but her voice was left unheard
She would protest, but they merely turned away
Sometimes, she would stand there bewildered
Eventually, in isolation she’d spend her days
One day, she came across a shimmering mask
Lying abandoned in a corner and unused
Little did she know in its glory she’d bask
Forgetting how badly she’d been bruised
Seeing they had something in common
She placed it on her tear-stained face
Not knowing about the fatal attraction
That would first bring her temporary solace
Praise from the hypocrites shortly followed
Their glassy stares replaced by pitiful confusion
Soon, forgotten were all of her deepest sorrows
As she transformed into a magnificent illusion
Popularity rose, soon to fall back down again
As the now ill-fitting mask began to lose its shine
Every once in a while, she’d feel the familiar pain
When people began to see beyond the ‘flashy design’
Unfortunately, the consequences were unforeseen
As the world proceeded onwards, she was left far behind
The mask’s shimmer was more dangerous than it seemed
Light would constantly bounce off it, eventually making her blind
The mask - she complained - had become one of several bothers
…or so she thought, ‘til its absence forced her back into isolation
But now she was left crippled and entirely dependent on others
What she’d withstood before, would surely lead to her termination
Helpless and afraid, she’d spend her nights crying until dawn
Praying for a visit from the Angel of Death, or a miraculous cure
One day she awoke to discover that the blindness had gone
And so had all the suffering she had for long endured
Alas, her cursed happiness lasted only a few days
Their taunting and mockery more poisonous than before
The memories of harsh games that were played
Send her sliding down to the floor
Her life as a loner will only end at its appointed time
A time no one can ever speed up or delay
Taking her life is a heinous crime
One for which she will undoubtedly have to pay
She lets go of the blade, wincing as her hands burn
Her salty tears stinging raw and open wounds
On healing, every scar will signify a lesson learned
The scab like sepals that fall off when a rose blooms
