Depression Poem by Teens

Poem Beating The Cutting Addiction

My name is Raeanne, I'm eighteen. When I was fourteen years old, I attempted suicide. The razor was my friend, not my enemy. I'm not afraid to share my story, to share what I've been through. I see all these kids now who are dealing with what I went through, the bullying, the torment, the name calling, the feeling that's there no help. But there is, and I'm here to instill hope in their hearts, to show them that they're not alone, though they may think they are. There's always someone who cares.

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I have so many friends that cut, and it hurts to know they do it, but one particularly stands as I can never unsee it. My BFF told me to raise her sleeve up yesterday when I asked, "What's...

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Breaks Me


Published by Family Friend Poems September 2011 with permission of the author.

I walk through these halls, I take note of it all.
I notice the tans, the fads and even those designer bags.
I hear the names being called, I notice the lies.
I feel the heavy atmosphere full of rumors and hidden lives.

I sit in the corner, the last desk of the row.
like a black and white picture fading away.
the point, the stare, their laughter fills the air.
no sleeves to hide what I've done, only a painted veil.

I remember that night, the night they all laugh about.
if only they were there, if only they knew, what this game could do to you.

The screams were loud, my door was locked, the bruise was bold.
The steel was cold, my skin was warm, the room was dark, my tears were not shown.
I fell to my knees, I looked to the sky; I at least tried to cry.
the crimson river was like a rush, and then I saw the ocean that flowed.
I cut too deep, but I didn't care; anything to not be here.
I felt like air, I fell to the ground, and then I couldn't hear a sound.

I next woke up in a hospital bed, my mother was crying.
My father beside me. They told me they loved me, they kissed and hugged me.
They showed me they loved me, they actually care.
and they took me away from there, to Pennsylvania.

A few years later, I sit here, writing this poem, remembering that year.
I'm different now. I have many friends, I have a true love, I have my own life.
Sadness is gone, the anger has vanished, and now I no longer cut for satisfaction.
I beat the addiction; I feel so much stronger,
but I keep these scars as a reminder.
What breaks me, makes me.


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Has this poem touched you? Share your story!
  • Justice D Creech by Justice D Creech, Kentucky, USA
  • 3 years ago

I have so many friends that cut, and it hurts to know they do it, but one particularly stands as I can never unsee it. My BFF told me to raise her sleeve up yesterday when I asked, "What's going on?" as there was a group of people around her. I raised it and my heart fell to the bottom of my chest. I saw the start of the scratches. Then at lunch yesterday she rolled her sleeves up and her arm was covered in cuts about 1-2 inches above her wrist and was about 4-7 inches as it stopped below the inside of her elbow about 2 inches. Me and my other friend told someone so she won't commit suicide and I felt hope today after we told. At lunch today, she said, "I want help. I've lined my arms too much and it looks bad." I hope she gets the help she needs, and I am so proud of her.

  • Joel by Joel, England (West Midlands)
  • 9 years ago

i used to cut deep that t would scar i passed out one day my mom found me and called the ambulance i told her that i slipped and accidentally cut myself with some scissors and she believed me and it was soon forgotten but a year later i attempted suicide but the thought of my family upset and my dad probably would fall back into depression held me back then over time i got stronger and thought why the hell should i hurt myself and the people around me just becaus some stupid bulls and my girlfriend cheated on me that's there doing i have a reason to live and that's for others feeling the way i used to to help an be there for them and the hep that i had to get this far was from my family and don't let this make you think im some dumb bible basher but God carried me through the difficult times because he loves everyone especially those in need and feel unloved

  • Skyler by Skyler, New York
  • 9 years ago

My name is Skyler and I am 16 years old. I have cut every night for the past couple nights. I started cutting about a year ago. I have schizophrenia.. so it gets hard with the voices and hurting people... only to find out about it later because I had no idea what I was doing. I loved your poem and I will cherish it forever, thank you for giving me a small glimmer of hope that I'll be ok someday<3

  • Angel by Angel
  • 9 years ago

I'm now sitting here reading this and crying. I hide my sadness with a smile. I only feel pain. I rarely truly smile or laugh. I can't tell anyone. I am afraid. I don't want to be a burden. I feel like it controls me. I try to stop and I say last time. That has been the biggest lie ever. I get pushed around told how much of a waste of space I am and how ugly and fat I am how I'm a loser and freak. I'm tired. Reading this gives me a bit of happiness. Someone understands it. Finally.

  • Kaylee by Kaylee
  • 10 years ago

I can relate to this everyone thinks I stopped cutting but I haven't and I have been to rehab. It helped for about a week and then I started cutting again. I cut cause I am bullied and my friends don't care and I am only 14. I have been cutting for about a year now it will be a year in May. It's really hard for me too open up to anyone.

  • Caitlin by Caitlin
  • 5 years ago

I'm 12 and I've been cutting for almost a year. It's really hard to stop, and everyone hates me for it. I have more scars than I do friends. I feel like whenever I cut someone gives up on me. Someone always leaves me because they can't handle my depression anymore. My friends bug me daily to get help, but I don't want help. I don't know what to do anymore. It seems like my only true friend anymore is my razor.

  • Carly by Carly
  • 11 years ago

I am a cutter. my mom hates me for it. my boyfriend dumped me and I cut so bad that they put me in a mental hospital. I currently have no friends and go to therapy instead of school because I can't handle the real world.

  • Evi by Evi, Claremore Oklahoma
  • 11 years ago

I still secretly cut . My memories taunt me with hopes that one day I will remember who I am. You talk about giving hope to people with your story of how you almost gave up. I do the same but nobody really listens even after the fact because I am only 15. Life deals us tragedies but we either endure or give up. I gave up and was caught. I have little hope now still caught up in the worlds web of lies. But if you think about it everybody is going to die sometime. Me and you came back from this haunting hour as leaders willing to help anyone so they don't end up like us. We gave up but came back stronger than before. You give me hope because you said nothing about still cutting. But then again maybe you won't even read this or give me the time of day. I am used to it though you do what you have to do. I do what I don't want to do but I gotta cope somehow.

  • Amanda by Amanda, Indiana
  • 11 years ago

This poem was so wonderful. I'll be 15 in May and I'm technically a cutter to. I scrap my skin, deep enough to scar, but rarely ever bleed. I hate my family, school, and sister most of the time. I want so badly for this to end, but reading things like this... It gives me hope that I can make it through. Thank you :D

  • Destiny by Destiny, IL USA
  • 11 years ago

I relate to this, and I'm 15 next month. I'm going through the exact same thing currently. I almost cut too deep, and no one would have known until I would have already been dead. No one in my house checks on me anymore, believing that I had stopped. That my addiction was gone, when in reality its still around. It never even came close to fading into the darkness. In a few years I'm going to be like you. Sitting on the computer, or anywhere, looking back at ages 12-whenever I stop cutting for good and thinking how stupid it was, how I didn't control my addiction. How I couldn't control it. How I let the students harsh words get to me, and bring me down. This is a really good piece of writing here, I loved it. I might mention it at school.. I will add your name in it and give you support if I do, if you don't mind I mean.

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