(This poem is about me cutting myself and how I feel.)
I felt to pain everyday,
Seeing the scars on my wrist.
No one understands me,
My life is at risk.
Waiting everyday for the worst,
With a razor blade in my hand.
Getting ready to cut my wrist,
I can't wait until my life ends.
At school I hang my head low,
Always feeling ashamed.
Always making actions of slicing their wrist,
The only reason is,
The cuts and scars on My wrist.
Wanting my life to end every night.
People don't understand depression,
Thinking only Mental people have it.
But no one knows how it feels,
until I explain,
The life I live is real.
Teachers and parents walk by,
Seeing the scars on my wrists.
Never knowing,
I'm waiting for the day I die.
YOU ARE READING
Emo poems
PoetryDepression is a great part of my poetry. Some of these poems are mine, and some aren't.
