Dear child, please show me
For I have been told
You slice up your skin
Use a blade of gold
It brings down tears
That flow like rain
And brings up blood
That only brings pain
School is a battleground
Each day, a strife
At night you dream of ending it
Using your father's knife
So here I sit by your bed
Begging, "Please don't cry,
tears of woe won't help you get by."
YOU ARE READING
Blades of Gold
PoetryA poem about self-harm written many years ago. (This was the first poem I ever wrote in all the original glory.)
