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cycle of sorrow


dpressedone89

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my words are like blood drops

hurt me and watch them spill out

they hit the ground and form puddles

puddles of emotion too deep to escape

fall down the spiral staircase and i drown

drown alone in a river of words

words that convey emotions i myself cannot understand

they form lines and verses of self hatred

which leave a brazen mark for all to see but none to know

they see it as a cry for help

but i ask not help, it is merely my attempt to help myself

if i dont help me no one will

no one can

im in too deep

those who try to help just fall in with me

i watch helplessly as teardrops fall to the paper

and i drown in sorrow

my life preserver is a concrete brick

the one thing that helps only makes it so much worse

so i ride this river of blood over a waterfall of tears

and ride useless self hating emotions

over lines and verses stanzas and chorus

echoing my torment as release that only reminds me

what is my savior is also my executioner

pen leads to razor leads to pen

the endless cycle of sorrow shall never end

 

-stitches

oppinions

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Something interesting I found... most people that cut themselves, don't only like the pain, but they love the blood spill onto the ground. Everyone talks of the puddles and some see things in the puddles. I find it an interesting facination with cutters. Perhaps what is happening pain wise isn't as important as what people will see in the bathroom (if they walked in). If someone walked in the puddles would be an "amount" of pain the person is in... more blood more pain.

 

Cutters also could be caught, and puddles can't be wiped away or hidden quickly like a cut on the wrist.

 

I just find it an interesting parallel.

 

Nice poem btw.

 

ForAnother

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i never noticed that before, thats interesting i think the reason that is is because being able to see their pain kind of rationalizes it. i dont think of it that way though i think of blood in a way i cant really put into words

thanks for reading it.

-stitches

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i

pen leads to razor leads to pen

.. I luv that line...Well written poem, echoes the cycle of sorrow youre writing about . Yer, and i do understand the fasciantaion with the blood puddles-- its like a physical expression of the pain held inside. Keep up the good work and thnx for replying to my poem.

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