My pain filled logic
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The Big Black Dog Message Board & Chat Room (TBBD) :: Self Help :: In Our Own Words - writing to survive
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My pain filled logic
My Pain filled logic
Logical equals irrational when one slices skin, an insane way of ridding, the pain from within.
As bloody red tears flowed down my arm, I couldn’t see sense; that I was doing myself harm.
It made sense at the time and felt like it helped, but I realize now, I was kidding myself.
I felt that I had no other way of release, and by slicing my skin, I felt the pain inside ease.
So if it helped out so much; then why did I hide? And not tell a soul; was it my own stupid pride?
Or was it because the blade caused me shame, the results of my cutting made me feel down again.
A vicious tumbling cycle; of pain and utter madness, yet I wouldn’t ask for help; just drowned in my sadness.
Zigzags and road maps; interstate arms, scabs and dried blood caused many alarm.
Still I just couldn’t see the damage I was causing, I continued on slicing till I woke up one morning.
A cut here and there was no longer helping, the pain was too strong; my brain started melting.
So I stood in my workplace and drew back my knife, I wanted the pain to stop; didn’t think of my life.
I was about to draw through from elbow to wrist, I never even thought that my life was at risk.
My employer walked in before I cut deep, I awoke from a nightmare; Id been living asleep.
I went home that night and cried my eyes dry, and realized then Id been living a lie.
Self-harming wasn’t help, it made my problems worse, depression is an illness, but it’s also a curse.
One that makes people mute and unable to speak, and sometimes brings death at its very worst peak.
It numbs off the brain; all thoughts are gone, except for the pain, it just rolls on and on.
I nearly took my life when I tried to stop the pain, maybe my story will help someone gain...
The strength to reach out and ask for a hand, and then someone’s loved one’s wont read an obituary ad.
I know it isn’t easy, depression is a disease, but from someone who knows, I’m asking you…Please…
Find someone you trust, don’t walk the same road, tell them your troubles and share some of your load.
It is easier said, than done, this I know, but please ask for help and let your tears flow.
I wrote this during my first mental breakdown, which came just after leaving my first husband. I think it pretty much speaks for itself.
Logical equals irrational when one slices skin, an insane way of ridding, the pain from within.
As bloody red tears flowed down my arm, I couldn’t see sense; that I was doing myself harm.
It made sense at the time and felt like it helped, but I realize now, I was kidding myself.
I felt that I had no other way of release, and by slicing my skin, I felt the pain inside ease.
So if it helped out so much; then why did I hide? And not tell a soul; was it my own stupid pride?
Or was it because the blade caused me shame, the results of my cutting made me feel down again.
A vicious tumbling cycle; of pain and utter madness, yet I wouldn’t ask for help; just drowned in my sadness.
Zigzags and road maps; interstate arms, scabs and dried blood caused many alarm.
Still I just couldn’t see the damage I was causing, I continued on slicing till I woke up one morning.
A cut here and there was no longer helping, the pain was too strong; my brain started melting.
So I stood in my workplace and drew back my knife, I wanted the pain to stop; didn’t think of my life.
I was about to draw through from elbow to wrist, I never even thought that my life was at risk.
My employer walked in before I cut deep, I awoke from a nightmare; Id been living asleep.
I went home that night and cried my eyes dry, and realized then Id been living a lie.
Self-harming wasn’t help, it made my problems worse, depression is an illness, but it’s also a curse.
One that makes people mute and unable to speak, and sometimes brings death at its very worst peak.
It numbs off the brain; all thoughts are gone, except for the pain, it just rolls on and on.
I nearly took my life when I tried to stop the pain, maybe my story will help someone gain...
The strength to reach out and ask for a hand, and then someone’s loved one’s wont read an obituary ad.
I know it isn’t easy, depression is a disease, but from someone who knows, I’m asking you…Please…
Find someone you trust, don’t walk the same road, tell them your troubles and share some of your load.
It is easier said, than done, this I know, but please ask for help and let your tears flow.
I wrote this during my first mental breakdown, which came just after leaving my first husband. I think it pretty much speaks for itself.
Re: My pain filled logic
Oh Hun........your stronger now. Your one of us!
Hugs
Monsta
Hugs
Monsta
ZenMonsta- Number of posts : 541
Age : 55
Location : Auckland
Registration date : 2008-09-21
Re: My pain filled logic
Wow! That is a powerful story. You have come a long way.
Guerrilla Roach- Number of posts : 169
Age : 48
Location : Christchurch
Registration date : 2008-12-07
Re: My pain filled logic
Thanks guys, ive never really shared my poems in such an open forum before but i felt this one had its place here.
Re: My pain filled logic
I like the name '1teaspoon' -- different.
I like your writing too. Hope it helps others. Good for you. Glad things are on the way up.
Cheers.
I like your writing too. Hope it helps others. Good for you. Glad things are on the way up.
Cheers.
Balancing Act- Number of posts : 22
Location : NEW PLYMOUTH, NZ
Registration date : 2009-07-24
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The Big Black Dog Message Board & Chat Room (TBBD) :: Self Help :: In Our Own Words - writing to survive
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