How I Really Feel
“How I Really Feel” is a raw and candid poem exploring the topics of suicide and self-harm. It starts out rhyming, but drops the rhyme scheme very quickly. Most likely originally written around the middle months of 2022.
I’m sorry to disappoint you,
I’m better off alone.
Shame is my identity,
I wear her like a cloak.
I can’t stand all these atrocious bitches
Talking way too loud.
I can’t write with all this noise,
My thoughts leave in a cloud.
Bitch, I’ll kill you,
I want you to die.
Fuck a rhyme scheme,
I do what I want.
I’m not very nice,
If you haven’t noticed.
Blame my fucked up brain,
In the end, is it my choice?
So maybe I’m bitter,
Maybe I’m wild.
Maybe I belong locked up.
Juvy or hospitals,
One of the two.
I’m not worthy of living,
Let sleep be endless.
Don’t wake me up,
I’d rather decay.
Bury me before I wake.
Last hospital visit
Lasted nine weeks.
I didn’t get better,
I hang by my neck.
Not yet,
Too soon,
But it won’t be long.
I won’t slit my throat
Because I don’t like the pinch.
I might slit my wrists,
I like the pain there,
It’s better than cutting my thigh.
I make people uncomfortable
With suicide.
My bad,
I’m just fucked up.
I know people hate
My suicidal ways,
But in the end, it’s not a choice.
My brain is fucked,
Just like my life,
I cut right through my muscle.
Thirteen stitches,
Internal and external,
I guess I just fucked up.
Blood streamed out
Like a fountain,
Landing a foot away.
Join me in my pity party,
There’s enough seats for everyone.
My sick brain can host
All the attention.
I’m like a rat,
I need food and water.
I scurry around,
Complete mundane tasks.
I’m hated for existing.
But some people love rats,
I guess that’s my support.
Without rat lovers,
I would be dead.
I almost died
A few nights ago,
Blood loss, blood flow,
I only had to go
A little bit deeper.
Dizzy and disoriented,
I stumbled to the bathroom,
Over the toilet
For easier cleanup.
The Emergency Room
Is my second home,
But at least I got stitches
Not done by myself.
Will I kill myself?
Only time will tell.
But I know I’ll keep cutting,
Replacing bedsheets soaked in blood.
-Graphite Everything
