Cutting

3 Comments

Cutting

Pain shreds your heart,
Incapacitating in its depth.
Defiantly you cut through the ache.
It's not material...
It's intangible...
Unseen, untouchable, unable to be caught and held.
You can't tear it apart in your hands.
Find what can be seen and held to rip apart.
Carelessly slice through your skin,
Easing the stranglehold on your heart,
Replacing it with this new, sharper, physical pain.
Watching the razor glide through your flesh,
Mesmerized by the crimson dripping to the floor.
This is soluble, this can be dealt with.
A bandage here, a bandage there...
Everything is all better.
Laugh hysterically,
Mock your inner tormentor,
Spit in the face of your demons.
Truly believing you are now the victor.
Well-pleased smugness convincing yourself you've won.

Alas... It’s all just another lie.

Your wounds will mend,
Sore and aching, but not fatal.
The stinging will ease,
The burning will stop,
You'll see the truth then.
You didn't win,
The game was only on pause.
What to do, what to do...

Bleed some more...
Eventually you may bleed out all the torment...

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Phoenix9 commented on Cutting

04-18-2010

terrific write, I love the dark side and you express it well

ShawnaD commented on Cutting

03-12-2009

Love It!!!

brandon commented on Cutting

03-12-2009

i feel that way 99% of the time

Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

Aoibheann’s Poems (8)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Seething 4
Cutting 3
Portrait 3
Smoldering 3
My Prince of the Desert 1
Calling Me 3
Does It? 3
Do You Love Me Now? 3