The Self-Harmer

Sometimes I think I am too much to cope with.

I am too many things at once.

A girl,

A Christian,

A music obsessive,

An indie,

An emo

A work that's progressive.

Wait, cut that,

I don't like rhyme.

And in all my being too many things,

I start to get the feeling

That I am nothing.

Not a friend,

An inspiration,

A love or a blessing.

Just a speck

On the world,

I am digressing.

I thought I said I didn't like rhyme.


I am too much for me to cope with.

So sometimes, just sometimes,

I leave myself behind.

So it's just the blade.

A flash of hard, sharp metal,

A drop of blood.

It makes me feel a little more

Like me again.


The End

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