BETTER OFF DEAD Once there was this girl who was as sad as could be. She felt she had no future And a reason to go on living, she could not see.
One day she decided That it was time to end it all. She was found dead lying in her bed.
She had slit each wrist and placed each in a bowl so as not to stain the sheets. She had taken as many drugs as she could To prevent any heroic deeds.
A suicide note was found safety pinned to her shirt. It told of everything that had gone wrong And how her life had been filled with pain and hurt.
It told about her family and all of the betrayal. It reeked with her failures at school And to her three friends she apologized because on them she had to bail.
She explained how her life had become a living hell And how to escape this world, Her soul to the devil she would sell.
She found true happiness as the blood dripped out. She knew that soon all of the pain would be gone. No one could have ever truly understood just what her life was about.
The last thing that she said Was that she wanted to be buried in her Baltimore Orioles tie And with an Orioles hat upon her head.
That day marked the end of her life and end to her pain. But then her nightmares came true, no one had really cared. The memory of her never graced a person's mind again.
No one missed her. No one cared one bit. No one was affected by the eternal absence of her.
She was truly better off dead.
I wrote this one at the end of the last semester (1998). It's scary for me now to look back and see just how upset I was with life. This is actually my current plan to take if ever I should give up on life and it is my biggest fear that I wouldn't be missed at all.
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Slowly, I drag the knife across my leg and down my arm. And inside my heart, I do no harm. But, I bleed and injure my body on the outside. It makes all of my hurts, pains, and fears run and hide.
Why I hurt myself, you may ponder But to alieve my pain I find nothing fonder. How I can bear cutting myself you may inquire. To punish myself I deeply desire.
As the knife goes deeper and I bleed more I can see my problems away from me soar. When I cut, I feel no pain And when I cut, it makes me sane.
For my life, I do fear And being afraid causes my eyes to tear. Just how far will I go? The answer to this not even I know.
Will I cut until I die? Will my friends beside me stand by? Can they save me from my own wrath? I need to know of those before me which is the right path.
I bleed for my own sanity. There is no simpler solution that I see. I cut myself to ease my pain Instead of letting my eyes cry like rain.
I'm finally coming out to the world and this is one of the ways that I am doing it. I am admitting that I am a self-injurer and the method I most often use is cutting. Each day I wear the scars of how my life has affected me.
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BLEEDING HEART There's a hole in my heart. And I know just why it's there. I think that it may fall apart. And I was wondering if you care.
This hole is a rather large one. And I want to mend it now. From this hole the blood does run But to fix it, I don't know how.
Could you possibly help me To fill this huge hole? Can you help me look and see Just what has happened to my soul?
Please tell me if I'm burdening you. Tell me if you don't wish to help me. I don't want you to do anything that you don't want to. Your feelings on helping me is what I wish to see.
I realize that what I am asking of you is a rather large request. This will require a lot of strength from you. But I know that if you want to help, you will do your very best. It will take a lot of love and care too.
So, I ask again, is this something you would like to try? Will you walk beside me and hold my shaking hand? Or will you watch the blood flow out and me slowly die? Will you hold me in your hand and let me slip through your fingers like sand?
I wrote this one in 1999. It's about my need for assistance in my battle to get better and to become a sane person again. I need all of the help that I can get. This is my plea for help.
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THE GAVEL The gavel cracks down on the bench As your whole body begins to flinch. You wonder what the verdict will say.
Will you be sentenced to death today? Your lawyer has a worried look in his eye. Does he think you're going to die?
You never should have killed your son-- Just because he attempted to run Away from you. He had nothing else to do. You threatened to shoot him anyway But did you have to do it on his birthday?
You were inhumanely cruel But not killing other people is a rule. The judge shouts, "Guilty!" What do you think will he Say is the time for the crime you're going to pay? There's nothing else you can say.
You knew your life was never perfection As the judge says, "Death by lethal injection." You also know that this is the most humane way to die But still you begin to cry. You get the idea of making appeals Who cares how it makes the taxpayers feel?
You were always against it when you were on the other side Now you wish you hadn't lied About killing Billy. That was really A dumb thing to do. Now you'll die on January 14, 2022.
A long time to wait For a deadly date. Why make appeals? You know how it feels To be poor because of a criminal And not being able to even buy Tylenol.
I am a very strong advocate for the death penalty and have my own solutions to cut costs. I proposed a bill in my ninth grade speech class about death penalty reforms which consequently got passed by a unanimous vote. I wrote this poem to assist in my argument for my bill.
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HEAR NO EVIL, SEE NO EVIL, SPEAK NO EVIL I knock on the coffin lid Yet no one hears me. I scream at the top of my lungs But I am not heard.
I hold the razor blade to my wrists Yet no one sees me. My eyes beg for someone's help But they are not seen.
I need someone to talk to But no one has the time. Someone needs to help me Yet no one wants to try.
I call for help but no one is around. I cry for hours yet no shoulders are lent. I think about suicide but no one talks me out of it. I need but one devoted person yet . . . I have no one.
This poem was written in high school when I was in a very depressed mood about life and not having anyone to talk to.**************************
HELL ON EARTH Suicide! I cannot hide My desires to cry My desires to die.
If you will not strike me dead, I may have to shoot myself in the head. I cannot live in this world anymore Even if to hell I must soar.
There cannot be any hell. This to you I can tell because there is no hell worse than life on earth. I hate my parents for my birth.
This world is a horrible place. Any more problems I cannot face. Please remove me from this world today. In a coffin, let me lay.
Eternal rest I need to be mine. On the dirt of the earth I want to dine. Let the creatures tear out my eyes. For to see this world any longer, I do despise.
Quite the morbid poem, I know. This is what the depressed and suicidal mind sounds like, however, at its lowest point. I wrote this poem while in a state of depression and suicidal thoughts and tendencies.
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KELLY
Kill yourself. Evil you are. Leave the earth. Leave no one behind. You can do it, just ignore your mind.
This short poem was written in eleventh grade to freak out an old English teacher who was retiring and didn't care for me. So, I wrote this poem to scare her. It did the trick. **************************
LIFE IS Like watching an animal die After falling from a tree As it slowly runs out of energy While blood seeps out Of its tiny little head spreading Over the cold wet ground. That's what life's like.
I wrote this poem in high school while in a depressed state of mind.
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ONCE MY DADDY HIT ME Once my daddy hit me And at first I couldn't see. He had hit me kind of hard While we were standing in the yard. We were planting some beautiful roses And I tripped over those big, fat hoses. Knocking over the potting soil and skinning my knee.
I started to cry When my daddy--he hit me right in the eye! He said, "You want somethin' to cry about?" I tried my hardest not to pout. But those tears, they came-- Running down my face like it was some sort of game. I feared for my life--would I be put in an electric chair and fry?
It was a big, huge accident Not some sort of experiment To see how much pain I could endure. But daddy--he was sure That I hadn't suffered enough. Living with him--Boy, it was rough Knowing that you could die if a nail was bent.
Once my mommy hit me. I was watching the TV When in she came a runnin'. It sounded like a herd was comin'. She took the remote control out of my hands And I drifted off to other lands. And once again--I couldn't see.
My life flashed before my eyes And it was filled with blue and red ties Being wrapped and tightened around my neck. I seldom looked like I hadn't been in a wreck. Mom--she wanted to watch Oprah Not a cartoon with a friendly little cobra. I always wondered why they hurt me--those guys.
I remember those times like they were yesterday. I would ask for dinner and they would say--"Okay." But then they turned the burner on--boy did it get red. My hand forced upon--I knew I wanted them dead. And my hand--it hurt real bad. And I thought, "Thanks Mom, thanks Dad." I really despised their disciplinary ways.
Once I killed my daddy--and my mommy too. It was that day when both of them had gotten that nasty flu. I was the one who originally gave it to them But first--I got it from Jim. They promised that I would pay Very, very soon one day. I didn't know what to do.
So I grabbed daddy's big, huge gun, This time I was not going to run! I put two bullets in-- I squeezed the trigger And I just can't figure How I managed to shoot 'em. I loved them even though They hurt me--so I got 10-12 years And I was full of fears That I would never get out was one. Being in jail isn't very fun Especially when you're only 15 and feel like you're on skid row.
This poem was written from the point of view of a child at the time of abuse. Although this poem was written in ninth grade for a research report that I did on child abuse, it was inspired by the parental abuse of many of my friends and the emotional and physical abuse of myself at the hand of my father. **************************
RAPE She sits on the street corner, naked and cold. She thought that his love she would forever hold. She has no one to turn to, nowhere to go. She feels it's her fault although she said no.
Rape is a terrible four-lettered word. Many of the victims' screams are never heard. These women need to see they did nothing wrong. Everyone knows their pain will be long.
Go to the police, a hospital, a friend. Put this man's crime spree to an end. It is undeterminable who his next victim will be. It could be you, it could be me.
What drives these men to inflict such harm on nature's creation? Is it their past, drug use, or intoxication? Until we try, this will not stop. We, as citizens, need to try to help as if a cop.
We can put an end to these women's pain. We can make our country gain. Be there for a woman who has just been violated, Even if you do not know the woman or are not related.
It is only the fault of the rapist. What can a weak woman do when he raises his fist? Lie down and comply. Struggle to live and not to die.
This poem was written in high school when someone very close to me was nearly raped by her boyfriend.**************************
VOICES OF EVIL I hear you screaming in my ear. You are coming in loud and clear. What is it that you want from me? What is it that you want me to be?
You whisper unsweet nothings in my ear And fill me with sorrow and fear. I try so hard to ignore you But it doesn't work, I know not what to do.
Cut yourself with a blade Admire the seeping blood that you've made. Cut it deep While you weep.
If I sliced my arm, Causing external harm. Would you go away? Or would you come another day?
Please won't you leave me alone? How much more do I need to plead and moan? Please stop talking to me And merely just let me be.
Although I am not schizophrenic, I do hear voices sometimes. The voices call me awful names and tell me to cut. I wrote this to them in hopes that they would leave me alone.
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WORDS FOR MY "FATHER" I hate you, you bastard, you ruined my life! Would the scars hurt less had they been caused by a knife? I call what you did to me neglect and emotional abuse. How could you do all of this to such a young and innocent youth?
No one could ever see The harm and pain that you inflicted on me. The bruises and cuts would have healed and gone away But, the emotional scars will here forever stay.
Everything that you did wrong, you thought was funny. Each day spent with you was stormy, not sunny. You gave me many Bloody Marys and beer, But, you completely ignored my feelings and every single tear.
One evening you said the groundhog ate my mom And that from my life, she was forever gone. On February second, of every single year, My emotions soar, I cry, and my eyes begin to tear.
One night, one too many times, I felt I had to pee. You left your room, shut the door, and proceeded to yell at me. You told me of the horror, I would have to assume If I continued to go to the bathroom and didn't stay in my room.
You warned me of the needle that they would stick inside And how it would reach from my vagina up into my mind. Since this day, you asshole, I cannot pee in public. The thought that someone might hear me makes me sick to my stomach.
Your three drugs of choice were alcohol, marijuana, and cocaine. What did you think that by selling drugs, you would truly gain? The police broke in my safe and secure home. For the reason they were taking away my daddy, my mind did roam.
Because of you, I hated the police for many, many years. Each time I saw an officer or a patrol car, my mind filled with memories and fears. My most distinct memory from my childhood was them taking you away in cuffs. And what was it all for? Just a couple of marijuana puffs.
I remember many nights, when mommy was at school, You made me turn the other way so that at the TV you could drool. Each night you watched the Playboy channel But I could see it in the fish tank panel.
Then you divorced my mom, two days before my seventh birthday. And I knew at that moment that for what you had already done to me, you would have to pay. You married again but this time to the wicked witch of Walnut Drive. I knew immediately that you had moved into the queen bee's hive.
But, with the witch came a wonderful friend. Every other weekend with her, away I was sent. My best friend, she soon became. Our time was spent in an endless badminton game.
My happiness was again put asunder As our relationship was shoved six feet under. You and the witch split apart. And, my best friend soon escaped my heart.
Shortly thereafter, you met another drug addict. She soon became very sick. All of a sudden she became insane And you and your drugs were all to blame.
You ruin the life of each person you meet. You should be murdered and hung on display by your feet! You are such an uncaring, immature, and unloveable fucker. You will have sex with any woman you find that is a sucker.
You had unprotected sex with someone infected with AIDS that died. You're promiscuous sex life, you never tried to hide. Kendra and I heard you every night And to destroy your drugs, we were willing to fight.
You shithead, you gave me a genetic disease. And then, about my medical problems, you constantly tease. The drugs in your sperm hurt me when I was a defenseless egg. For my love, you were never willing to beg.
I call you my "father", not my dad. How could a father have parenting skills so bad? You were never my father, just a sperm donor. You should be sentenced for life to jail as a loner.
I pray that God sends you straight to hell For harming me, neglecting me, and all the drugs you did sell. You are no longer worthy to live here on earth. As far as I'm concerned, our father-daughter relationship ended at my birth.
I hate you, you fucker, I want you to die. You made a loving man leave me, you make me cry. A normal life, I can never lead For my memories of you, my life will forever impede.
I wrote this poem for my "father" who for my entire life has done nothing for me but caused me pain and made my life more difficult to live.
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YOUR COLD TOUCH I love you like a mother loves her son. I cherish you as you make my blood run. I cannot live without your cold touch. I love you so even though you hurt me so much.
You lift my spirits when I am down. You erase from my face my sorrowful frown. You leave me with a reminding scar Of just exactly where I've been so far.
Pressing against my skin, cut me deep. Let the blood from my body seep. Your razor sharp teeth cut my skin Leaving a long red trail of where you've been.
You are my sunshine when skies are gray. You help me live just one more day. I've become your humble slave. Being with you has made me brave.
You remind me that I am alive And with your help, I will survive. Take the blood from my arm. Do what you will, you cause me no harm.
I love you, my razor blade. You make my troubles fade. You take the tears from my eyes to my veins And take away all of my fears and pains.
I wrote this poem in 1999 about my self-injury. It is a poem written to my razor blade. Although I was not cutting at the time, the blade still means a lot to me.
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