STOP Cutting Poem

The Importance Of A Friend

I am a 15 year old cutter. I have been struggling with cutting since I was 11. Then I met this guy. He has helped me cope with the sexual abuse that I went through for years, and he is helping me through my addiction to cutting. He is the reason I'm still trying. He's the reason I'm still alive today.

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My Saving Thought

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Published: March 2018

I sit here, letting my mind wander.
I let it wander too far.
As she whispers my name, I scream, "No."
She continues to whisper to me.
That soothing voice in my head.

I refuse to give in.
She will only hurt me.
Her ways will slowly kill me.
I scream at her that I will not.
I know she will only make things worse.

She promises to help.
She quietly tells me she can make it better.
She comforts me with her words.
She says she can fix it all.
She very quietly whispers, "The blade."

I know it will soothe me.
I know it will help.
I know it will make me forget,
Forget the monsters inside my head,
Forget the pain.

She is now yelling for the blade.
She screams that it'll help.
She tells me it'll fix everything.
She promises that it'll make me okay.
She forces me to grab the blade.

I hold the blade.
I think about him.
His soft voice.
His saving arms.
I imagine the disappointment in his eyes.

He saves me.
He fixes things.
He helps.
He makes me forget the monsters.
He is what I need.

Her screams mean nothing,
Nothing to his whispers.
Her promises mean nothing,
Nothing compared to his loving voice.
He is all I need.

One last glance at that blade
Enrages me by the thought,
The thought of his disappointed look,
The saddest look.

The blade scares me.
I throw it.
The voice screams.
I ignore it.
His smile shines.

I will not let this destroy me.
I am loved.
I am wanted.
I have a reason not to bleed.
I will not let this happen.

I picture his face.
I smile.
I imagine his voice.
I laugh.
I feel his love.

I'm no longer sad.
I no longer want that blade.
I no longer need her voice.
I just need him.
The thought of him saves me.

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