«•Pøems|DeepWriting•»

|Self-harm Pøem|

Self-Harm:

He painted
And sketched
And drew in red

A kind of Painting That
Makes you wind up
Dead.

Nobody knew of the gallery
He had.
So there was nobody to stop him
And his gallery grew.

Soon there was no more room
For his paintings
So he moved to his thighs
And started creating

With a slash
And a dash
And a splatter of red
He felt dizziness come to his head

He creates the paintings
Late at night
Locked away in his room
Shut up tight.

Until one day a friend
Very dear in his heart
Convinced him to stop
Creating this art

For it was a burden
And it caused pain to his friend
And his friend didn't
want him to come to an end.

So he put down the knife
Got rid of the gun
And stayed for a while
Until the torturing again begun

He was bullied at school
He was called a fool
So he picked up a tool
That many knew

It was a razor
A knife
And also a gun
And so the pain once again begun

And when the pain would become to much to bear
he would put the gun
Up to his hair

But he was too afraid
Too afraid to commit
Because his death could cause
Others to slit

He didn't want to deal with this pain
Instead he would cry in the pouring rain

Until one day the rain disappeared
And he could see the light coming near
Because he allowed others to help
And up went his health

His art gallery stopped
No need for that red
All he needed was support by his side
And then he was soon able to strive

If you let others help with your burden
You will slowly stop hurting

So please, stop creating this art
That slowly stops the beating of your heart
Your life is worth it
It always will be
Don't be afraid to get help if you need