Knives

When I was small, I was always the X

And everyone else chose the O.

They were always whole & I was always broken.

I played tic tac toe on the tree,

Played tic tac toe on the tree,

Played tic tac toe on the tree,

Played tic tac toe on...

Me.

Slice, slice. Oh that feels nice

To remind me I don't belong in heaven.

'Cause all this life gave me is...

Nothing but what tore my heart to pieces.

And we all know that hurts worse than a razor.

A chord wraps around my slit wrists to bind me down

When all I ever wanted to do is fly.

But fallen angels don't have wings

And I,

All I do is ask, "Why?"

Why? Why? Why?

And I'm still not sure if I'm a criminal or a martyr,

But no one innocent sleeps in my bed.

-Bethany

So, I recited this a while back and decided to post it. Here's the story:

I was in my bed, not falling asleep. I thought of how, though I have never cut, I knew someone who had. Probably know someone now that does. And I have in previous years harmed myself in other ways, not badly, thankfully. So there I was, with my morbid thoughts and the dark. When I feel truly poetic and/or deep, I risk not falling asleep for another hour so I can write down my thoughts on a tiny glowing screen. I know writing doesn't just come, so I'm gonna show you those thoughts that I wrote down originally, then put it together as a poem in my journal that I put all my random thoughts, ideas, a couple sketches, and notes when I don't want to pull out my binder. These thoughts weren't supposed to be entirely connected, so read them as if each stanza, shall I say, is one string of thought.

Notes (in the original order):

I feel like I'm more likely to be murdered. Because no one hears me scream.

The cord wraps around her slit wrists to bind her to the ground, when all she wanted to do is fly.

Slice, slice. Ooh that feels nice to 

remind me I don't belong in heaven. 'Cause all this life gave me is

Nothing but what tore my heart to pieces.

And we all know that hurts worse than a razor.

I played tic tax toe on the tree,

Played tic tac toe on the tree,

Played tic tac toe on the tree,

Played tic tac toe on....me.

Adjustments

I'm almost the perfect person,

All I need is a few adjustments.

I will cut of my toes for being too graceful.

Then I'll drain out my brain for being ungrateful.

Plug up my ears because they heard too much,

Take off my fingers because they always want to touch.

I can't have either ears to wear rings.

I won't have any nerves to feel things.

I can sew up my lips for speaking,

And gouge out my eyes for leaking.

I will be a perfect person,

Right after these few adjustments.