literature

My So-Called Accidents

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littlepoet321's avatar
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Literature Text

I yell at you for harming your life,
But there I am cutting with a knife.
I cry when I see the cuts you made,
Wonder why mine never could fade.
My scars and cuts are always new,
Self-mutilation I hide from you.

Carve words into my tender skin,
I loathe the world I am living in.
I slice my wrist and then my thigh,
Contemplate how I’m going to die.
Then I scratch them if there’s a need,
And wait for the scars to slowly bleed.

I hurt myself every single day,
“Accidents,” I dishonestly say.
I wrote this a really long time ago and honestly I hate it. It’s awful. But here it is.

Poem- “My So-Called Accidents” © Me- Dana M.
Image © [link] which I found at [link]
Suicide Tree Story seen below © [link]

“In Dante's Inferno, there is a group of trees that are, in reality, the souls of suicides who landed in Hell for their final misdeed. In Hell's clean justice, these unfortunates are now trapped in the bodies of trees so that they can do no more mischief to their flesh. That pleasure is reserved for the Harpies (birds with the breasts and heads of women), who squabble among the trees, ripping off twigs and limbs from the branches, which subsequently bleed, and with the blood come the moans of the suicides. This is the only way they can express themselves. This little gouache image is actually two images, if you look closely, you can see the rope around the neck, the hands held up high above the head, the twisted torso and legs. Thank you, Dante!” © [link]
© 2005 - 2024 littlepoet321
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blkangel182's avatar
sounds like me.... tellin ppl 2 stop but than goin and doin it myself... idk y u dont like it... but o well... i do