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    Poems From My Life

    Page 2
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    Some die when it’s their time

      Some when it’s not

      And some pick their time

      The blood starts to flow faster

      Out of the cut

      And over my arm

      No pain this time

      Not again

      Only relief

      Is it my time?

      There are more cuts.

      Deeper than before

      No it is not my time

      The pain still needs to come

      It is not suicide yet

      Drawings

      I knew this girl who loved to draw

      Her drawings no one ever saw

      She was most artistic at night

      Behind closed doors, the bathroom

      Out of site

      She kept the drawing a secret

      No one knew

      Her drawings were different from others

      She didn't need oil and paint

      No paper and pens

      Just a razor

      And a band aid now and then

      We stood together in her room

      Her looking at me

      Me looking at her

      I rolled up my sleeves

      She rolled up hers

      She showed me her scars

      I looked down at my arm and whispered "I love to draw,"

      Collage

      What You See; What I See

      You look in the mirror

      What do you see?

      You see hair

      You see eyes

      You see lips

      You see a nose

      You see a face

      Look in the mirror

      And I’ll tell you what I see

      I see blonde hair that is dull and lifeless

      I see green eyes filled slumbering sorrows

      I see lips torn and stained red

      I see a nose scratched and scarred

      I see a face devoid of life

      Look to the mirror

      And see what I see

      I see flesh disfigured with little scars and blood trails

      I see a frown frozen in place

      I see eyes that droop from weariness

      I see hair that is mated from neglect

      Look in the mirror

      And see what falls

      I see eyes brimming with tears

      I see lips parted with a slow steady stream of blood flowing endlessly

      I see…

      This Time

      This time I don't realize I’ve picked up the knife.

      This time I don't realize I've pushed it down.

      This time I don't feel the blood.

      This time I don't feel the pain.

      This time I don't hear the screams.

      This time I don't hear the sirens.

      This time I don't see the worried faces.

      This time I don't see the truth

      This time I don't speak.

      This time I don't understand.

      This time I allow it to happen

      Cold

      The water is so cold

      So evil

      So dark

      So silent

      So beautiful

      The wave’s crash and call to me

      They tell me what I want to hear

      No pain

      No problems

      Only love

      Only a family

      It sounds intriguing

      They want me to follow them

      To follow through the cold to the warmth

      They have the right idea

      Maybe

      Maybe

      Maybe

     

      Numb

      The waters cold

      So cold

      It presses down on me

      It wants me to stop

      To give up

      To give in

      To sink and stay

      I fight its greed

      I think of the warmth,

      The love

      But there is no love

      Not for me

      I give into the needy current

      ……

      I see flesh slip into blissful peace

      This Time I allow the light to fade

      It’s Cold

      And I go Numb

      Can You Hear It?

      Did you hear the screams that left her mouth?

      Or the tears that fell from her eyes?

      Can you hear the drawers slide open?

      Or the seething of the blades?

      Are you able to hear the sounds of her skin being sliced open?

      Did you hear her when she took her own life?

      Her screams were silent

      Her tears hidden by the shower.

      The drawers don’t make a sound

      And the blades were sharpened to a point

      Her skin is fragile: torn open easily, blood flowing fast

      She killed herself in silence, alone, in a dark room

      A knife in one hand

      Her mouth opened in a scream

      She's screaming in silence

      Can you hear it?

      ###

      I really appreciate everyone who bought this. I plan on writing more and publishing more. I’m currently working on a book now so just keep watching for when it gets published.

      Thanks

      Macy Grace

      About the author:

      I was born March8th, 1997. I am currently a junior attending High School in Houston, Texas. I live with my father and two cats. I have a sister and a brother, both of which are older. My mother lives in San Antonio with her boyfriend who is an executive chef for The Cheesecake Factory. I am very fun and outgoing.

      To view the interview click here

     



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