I wrote this after I had one of my episodes and panic attacks, I tried to rhyme but I don't think it worked.
They tell me to draw for them,
I tell them I hate them.
They say do it or die.
So I say ...
Okay,
I draw something beautiful that looks red.
Slits and twists,
All on my wrists,
Are where these colors mix.
Just like with my story,
I tell them I need to be fixed.
They tell me I'm just a waste and a jinx, so ...
Drawings on drawings I mix,
Little by little the slits and twists run dry.
I finally fall limp and say ...
I drew for you,
Can I now be fixed?
Please before I lose all my beautiful reds,
From all these slits and twists that paint my wrists,
Fix me, let this horrid story end,
And let me keep all my lovely reds.