Poems About Life

Sliver and Red ( Or The Scars Of The Broken)

I feel bad for the people who share the scares of the broken.

They go through so much that make them start to draw with silver and red.

But lately I feel as though I may join them soon, that I may join the scared.

Why is it we have to be put under so much pressure, why do we have to be beaten down to our bone?

We will hide it from everyone, the real pain that we feel, and will harm ourselves to try and make it all go away.

Sometimes we go to far, causing us even more grief if we do endure it.

But some of us actually want that to happen, we want to go to far so it can all just end.

Then when we end it the people who caused us our grief don't understand what happened, because they never really cared.

And the ones who do care hate themselves because they think that they could have helped.

What they don't understand is that we give them hints to what is going on, and sometimes they don't see them.

Some of the one who do think that they are helping by just saying we shouldn't do it and scolding us if they see it.

Maybe the ones that care the most will save us, the army of scared ones, but until then we will keep doing what we are doing.

We will keep doing it until the darkness embraces us with open arms.

By then would anyone care?