Self Harm Poems Short Novels & Stories

My other self is walking towards me, about to crown my head with thorns of pain and beauty. Beauty through the pain, My other self is staring at me through a broken mirror. Mirror of my broken self, mirror of the broken soul She is screaming, Screaming silently at me for leaving her to decay. Leaving her lost, to burn To end. The end is walking fast. Moving like the wind Moving till I can’t see.

all my suffering, from inside my body. Today, I cut myself. to heal my pain...to forget about the sad moments but it didn't help me...it didn't..I felt lonely..helpless..finding a ray of light in the dark world..finding myself..a powerful girl inside me...but the girl was already broken by these evil people. ________________________________________ Dear diary,

He lit a joint and rummaged one of the side tables for pen and paper, to write down the words rioting in his head. "Be gone already The weight of your fears Keeps holding me down. "I ain’t no bearer Of other people’s burdens. "I’m the one hand You can reach out to And all you do is run. "Be gone already I won’t give in To you anymore. "I need to be myself again Remember what it’s like Before it’s too late." He read it over and cursed aloud. That wasn’t him. That was no lyric. That read like one of Silvia’s poems.

A light too blinding, a fire too high, Yet I kneel, yet I pray, yet I burn alive. Flesh and bone, yet something more, A voice that binds, a touch ignored. Untouchable fate, unshaken throne, And yet I long to call you my own. I exhaled through my nose again, rubbing my temple. Of course, it's wonderful. I'd never read poetry so well written. Of fucking course. I refolded the paper and tucked it back where I found it. I wasn't mad. I wasn't even surprised. Just... I don't know.

Whispering lies I wasn’t strong enough to deny. I ran my fingers through my sweat-soaked hair, strands sticking to my scalp. The walls closed in like a trap. Every heartbeat thundered in my ears. Every breath came shallow and ragged. The bitter taste of failure coated my tongue. The desperation clawing at my chest like a beast I couldn’t cage. I should have been stronger. I should have been in control. But I was breaking. Fucking breaking. I slammed my fist against the wall, hard enough to send shockwaves through my bones.

They stoned me with eggs, tomato and things I couldn't even name then they threw me out of the pack, into a flowing stream. Like a lifeless figure, I let the water carry me to heaven knows where, silently crying as I used my sharp fingers to pinch my skin. Perhaps if I hurt myself that way, the pain in my heart would stop. Unfortunately, it didn't. Nothing could make me feel better after experiencing what I did. I was worthless and honestly wanted to die. If my own family and my mate couldn't love me, if I couldn't love myself, then there was nothing to live for. So I closed my eyes, hoping to die soon.

Twenty years of this violence play through my mind like a horror movie I can’t turn off: Age five: Crouching in my closet, hands over my ears, singing nursery rhymes to drown out Mom’s screams. Age ten: Watching Dad throw Mom’s favorite vase across the room, missing her head by inches. Age fifteen: Jumping between them during a particularly bad fight, earning a bruised shoulder. Age seventeen: Finding Mom unconscious on the kitchen floor after a fight. “Please,” I whisper to my reflection. “Please don’t let me become her.” At work, my hands won’t stop trembling. I spill Alex’s coffee twice before making it to his office. He notices immediately—of course, he does. He notices everything.

"The only person in this world that you can trust is yourself. Even those that you think you can allow in will end up disappointing and hurting you." My heart clenches at the words that are leaving this woman's lips. I’m not sure if they’re hurting for her or myself, but I can feel what she has said deep down in my soul. "I don’t have anywhere far away," I begin, making a sudden decision that I never thought I would ever be making. "BUT, I do have a place that is pretty secluded, and it should be safe for you if you so wish to go there." "And where is that?" she asks. "Are you referring to this tiny room in the middle of a whorehouse? If this is your safe space, I’ll have to decline your off

The audience gets quiet, waiting to hear what I’m going to say. “This poem is called Unapologetically Me. We go through different things in life that cause us pain. We have people in our lives, who make it their mission to break us or destroy us, but we are stronger than that. So, I dedicate this to all of us who have ever been through heartache and survived.” Unapologetically Me By Lotta Patterson © 2021 You tried to break me, But I’m unbreakable. You tried to shake me,

I can never escape the darkness. I tried to break these cycles of violence and despair, but it seems that no matter how hard I try, I am always drawn back into the abyss. I am sick, tired, and exhausted from the never-ending battle within myself. I stare at the dagger in my hand, its blade gleaming in the moonlight, a symbol of the pain and destruction I have caused. Sitting by the hill of corpses that I created, I sliced my skin open, hoping to release the inner torment that plagues me. The crimson droplets fall onto the ground, merging with the blood-soaked earth, a visual representation of the darkness that consumes my soul. But soon, just before the skin starts to heal itself, there is n