Self Harm Poems Short Novels & Stories

The wind swallowed his words, but the anguish remained, festering in his chest like an open wound. He felt like he was drowning in his own tears, suffocating under the weight of his sorrow. The sea seemed to laugh at him, its waves crashing against the shore with a rhythm that felt like mockery. Lewis collapsed to his knees, his body wracked with sobs, as he whispered, "Why can't anyone see me? Why can't anyone love me for who I am?" The only response was the relentless pounding of the waves, a reminder that some wounds might never heal.

The night they cynically came to the hospital she seemed rough and soulless but now she seemed like such a gentle and innocent woman. Perhaps God had put her in my path to convince me that this revenge was hurting me. Maybe she was more soulful than I thought and I was really wrong then. There was something else that caught my attention and that was those lyrics. They were so sad. They expressed a deep, deep pain. But who could hurt such a soul so deeply? The lines of the poem she wrote kept echoing in my mind: “With feet lost in the fine sand I’m heading for the shore, shy and tentative

he was madly in love with his wife, tears started to fall from her eyes and she sat in the ground I hurt myself today To see if I still feel I focus on the pain The only thing that's real The needle tears a hole The old familiar sting Try to kill it all away But I remember everything What have I become? My sweetest friend Everyone I know goes away In the end And you could have it all My empire of dirt I will let you down I will make you hurt I wear this crown of thorns Upon my liar's chair Full of broken thoughts I cannot repair Beneath the stains of time The feelings disappear You are someone else I'm still right here What have I become? My sweetest friend

~Trigger Warning: This story is rated 18+. This chapter contains descriptions of self-harming behaviors such as suicide, self-inflicted injuries, body harm, alcohol and drug abuse, which may be triggering for readers with lived experiences.~ For a while I just lay in bed, falling asleep when I finally cried myself into unconsciousness. Sometimes, I got up to stand in the hot water of the shower, but I’d crawl back into bed. Everything felt empty. Nothing was right, and Noah’s words echoed in my head.

Her tears at that time falling for me felt like a huge universe gifted my way which I was ever ready as I could be to grasp tight. I was a fucking moron to hurt her time by time. I wanted her with me. Her heartbeats to synchronize with mine. She was it for me and I wanted myself to be it for her. But not anymore. \'''If I were a poet I would write sonnets Dedicating to your beauty with utmost honest! If I were a priest! I would preach your love with utmost sweet! But Alas! I'm none of the above In your world, I am just a wild beast!'''/

He was 6'3", yet he fell to his knees before me while crying. He hugged my legs and begged me to forgive him. I sighed in resignation and pushed him away gently. "Maybe you don't remember this, but I'm only human. Did that stop you and Benjamin from hating me and wishing for my death? "I'm a human being, and my heart beats just like yours does. Do you really think you deserve my forgiveness after everything you've done to harm me for Jennifer's sake? Will your conscience be clear?"

I whispered before closing my eyes. "You fulfilled your promise!" He whispered while pulling his hands away. Two drops of tears rolled down my cheeks. I could feel the love, the rage and the longing I had before dying. If wasn't a memory of a past. It seemed like I had just lived that moment just now. The pain was still fresh in my heart until Caspian pulled me in his arms and stroked my hair. "Don't worry, we have past all this and now we are together." "And those who have hurt her, has suffered the worst fate no matter which lifetime." He added.

“They’re about private wounds.” Franc nodded, understanding etched into his features. “But shared healing.” They curated a small chapbook: “Places Silence Shaped Us.” Thirty pages. Each with a poem, a sketch, a truth. They didn’t distribute widely. Just copies in the studio, tucked among supplies and leaning against chipped mugs filled with dried brushes. One guest read the poem about Yam’s panic attack, fingers trembling slightly as they left a note: “Your chaos matched mine. I don’t feel like a puzzle piece anymore.”

Though where are they? I was just so disgusted and hurt and shattered inside, that I was like a leaving dead body. And all I wish this very moment was dead. I wanted to die. With anything I can get my hands on that will help me get through this with or without pain it doesn't matter, because I don't even feel any. I wanted to die. I looked around if I can't find anything I can stab myself with. But then I came up with the thought. I shouldn't stab myself. Stabbing is just too strong of a act for someone as weak as me who couldn't even protect herself.

I wanted to swim, no matter how much selfish it was. Closing my eyes, I put my hand over the pond with the heart thumping harder again and breath quickened. Their were times when you see a memory-horrible ones. They were like demons, gripping you, pushing you and never letting you win. They hated happiness. All they wanted was self pain. This was the moment. I hate you. You ruin my life. You made my video viral. Why being lesbian is such a ridicule and wrong in your eyes? You're a cold hearted bitch.