Categories > Original > Poetry1 Reviews
Fix me, please, I'm still broken.
I pushed everyone away,
I never meant to be so cold,
I felt I couldn't live another day.
I dragged the blade across my skin,
I allowed the crimson to appear,
Each time I'd push the metal deeper in,
And yet I shed not a single tear.
The small red beads were not enough,
And soon those lines covered me,
On the surface I still seemed tough,
Inside, I wanted someone to set me free.
Now, the blade sleeps soundly,
The scars begin to fade,
I've become so cowardly,
I can't pick up the blade.
I want to, I want to, I want to,
I need to, I need to, I need to,
Do you care?
I'll tell myself I'm better than that,
That the sharp metal can not fix me,
There's no difference to where I am now at,
My reflection still does not believe.
I still want to hurt myself,
I want to watch the blood,
I'll completely disregard my health,
And I'll cause a red flood.
Fix me, please, I'm still broken,
I'm not! I'm fine! ... Make up your mind,
Forget all of the words I have spoken,
I'll lie again, just to be kind.
I'm fine, I'm fine!
See, look at me smiling!
I still long to draw another line,
And I cannot stop crying.
These lies spill rapidly from my lips,
Maybe one day I shall tell the truth,
I shall explain how I repaired the rips,
And how that blade destroyed my youth.