self-injury.net - Latest Creative Works

almost dead

Anonymous — Tue, 07 Feb 2012 02:15:59 +0000

Pale white skin arises on my wrist
Scars string like cobwebs
Some so deep they are still red
Reminding me evreyday
Still to be ashamed, I put on a jacket
To avoid the stares
To avoid the mystic awe
To avoid the knives not only splitting my skin
But splitting relationships;the same painful infliction I have upon myself I do to others whom surround me
But all considering, I'm pretty lucky
Nobody knew the pills I popped at night
Nobody knew I consumed 2 diff meds all at once, to the bottom of the bottle
Praying for it all to end
I should be dead by now
God knows how much I wanted to be
But he gave me life & for a reason

But if I didn't have a girl on my side
I would have died
She was the reason I fought evreyday
She was the reason I had the strength to put down the razor
She was the reason I could put down the pills
If I died, I couldn't see her anymore
If I cut, my pain reflected in her eyes

It didn't mean I never used a razor
It didn't mean I was never suicidal
Urges still were greater than the cause
She had to monitor me, she had to take away my tools, she had to have me talk the truth, she had to hold me tight.

But see, she was willing to do those things
When nobody else would
She knew me for years, so she could see right through me
And what she saw wasn't pretty

I'm no longer praying to die
She has shown me the will to live
I now pray on how to life
This doesn't make me saint, perfect, or even completly recovered Read more »

Pathetic Agony (May be Triggering)

Anonymous — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 21:22:43 +0000

My body is a canvas,
And I paint a tragic tale.
You are not my hero,
I am trapped in Hell.

A razor is my paintbrush,
and every artist needs a muse.
My only inspiration is
Every time I'm used.

I swear I know I need help,
But I don't want to stop.
They tell me it's a bad habit,
but I feel like it's not.

No, it hasn't killed me yet,
so who's to say it will?
It leaves me numb and bitter,
So I don't need your pills.

The blood is but a setback,
I think I'll be okay.
We both know you can't save me.
You never tried to anyway.

Oh, it's no big secret,
ask me, if you'd like.
I'll show you a scar or two,
And try to take some pride.

Every scar stands for,
another day that I survived.
Because at least, when I'm bleeding
I'm certain I'm alive.

Console me with your words,
Such pretty, perfect lies.
I don't need you next to me,
I'm telling you, I'm fine.

My razor is my best friend,
It know secrets I dare not speak.
And you are nothing to me,
Just another face on the street.

I could replace you in a second,
With someone else who wears a mask,
Because we all wear them,
We cover up our pasts.

I Fear

Anonymous — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 06:18:57 +0000

I Fear

that I'm afraid of feeling anything outside of what I've known for the past 3 years.

3 years of my life

I've kept friendships minimal
Read more »

My Struggle.

ElevenTwentySixTen — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 20:46:47 +0000

I am a sixteen year old girl in a world filled to the brim with hatred. I have had my share of problems over the course of my life and I try my best not to dwell on them. I do find myself lost in the darkest places of my mind often. I just suffocate in my own depair too much. I have been bullied my entire life over stupid thing. I don't have parents and the reason is too private. They're just awful people. I have witnessed things no child deserves to ever see. I resorted to cutting in ninth grade. I am ow a junior and I never know where to stop. I'm too lost in my own agony to realize to realize that I don't deserve what I am doing to myself. No one deserved this kind of pain. Self hatred is the worst form of hatred in my opinion. It tears you open and darins your sanity like nothing else can. It takes away all self confidense and morphs it into agonizingly horrid images of you. I wish I could love myself like I love my boyfriend. I don't ever see that happening though. Don't let yourself get swallowed by your own problems to the point that they start to control your life. It's the worst kind of fear. Fearing yuorself. I never know what I am going to do to myself next. I hope I can muster the strength to end all of this before I hurt someone I love deeply. That's all I want. Freedon from myself.

Sit Down My Friend

wayfaringstranger — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 02:34:13 +0000

Sit Down My Friend

Sit down my friend, and talk with me.

I know you hurt inside.

You seem as though you’ve given up.

I see it in your eyes.

I see the pain. I see the fear

Please let me hold you close

I’ve seen your scars. I’ve seen your tears

But I promise there is hope

I’ve walked down that road before.

I’ve felt the pain you feel.

I know you feel there’s one way out.

But in time you will heal.

So sit my friend, and let us talk.

In me you can confide.

Although today things may seem bleak,

We’ll make it out the other side.

Battle Scars

The Darkness in Light — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 20:53:48 +0000

These scars,
These marks,
They are not just scars.
They are battle scars.
Proof of my fight,
Each and every night.
Proof of my internall hell.

Every night,
There is a fight.
One with blood, flames and fists.

Every night,
I lose.
Sucumb to the pain inside.
Then tomorrow these battle scars i shall hide.

Loved for the wrong reasons

LaurenGB — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 19:10:11 +0000

His number sits upon the chair,

How did you end up getting there?

Are you addressed to me inside,

or instead to the body I hide?
Read more »

Cordelia Rose

Bipolar13 — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 08:44:33 +0000

I once knew a girl named Cordelia Rose,

sweet, innocent and a cute button nose.

If you took one look, you would see.

She looked normal, just like you and me.

But if you looked harder you would have seen,

a trail of sadness from where she had been.

Her trail was crimson, it flowed like tears.

She tried to wash away her fears.

This crestfallen girl is no longer with us.

She took her own life, my pain still itches.

I'll always remember Cordelia Rose.

I sit by her grave and lay down a red rose.

truth in life

starlin-vander — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 22:06:13 +0000

truth in life were alone in time

wandering n romming among the blinded foke that walk by us

unknowing nor careing about the hollow soul's arond the path's they walk

we look at tho an wonder were alike or better then thos that are

blinded by a fake reality of a life

we care for other's unline are self's with a self-lothing lust we de-attach are self's

from the world n hide like the hidden light with-in us all

Wretchedness

Silent Darkness — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 16:17:34 +0000

agony of existence, neither dead nor alive
      overflowing with excruating pain
         tears creep down her cheeks
preoccupation with the irresistible razor
    salvation from the everlasting misery
           gentle caress of the razor
      flesh embraces the piercing blade
    blood swells from the ruptured flesh
flowing along the imperfections of the surface
       accumulating a crimson pool of life