Pain

I shout, but nobody hears me.
I cry, but no one sees my tears.
Only the glass knows my pain,
Only the glass can help me now.
It cuts deep in my arm, releasing
The demon that haunts my soul.


I'm a big believer in honesty. So heres me being honest: I'm a cutter. When I feel an emotional overload, I reach for a piece of glass. If thats not available any sharp object will do. The pain and sight of blood does ease what I feel and allows me to cope. Last night was just such a night. But instead of cutting I wrote that poem.