So Easy

It started so easy, and now it's hard to end

With every cut her truth is harder to tell

The scars on her arms will simply not mend

She lives in her own personal hell



It started to easy, just a scratch here and there

But the cuts became stabs and slashes

She covers them with a hint of despair

On her arms one hundred lashes



It started so easy, she just wore long sleeves

But now it's getting hot outside

She uses cover up and tries not to seethe

Someone questioned - she had to lie



It started so easy, but now she's so weak

Her solace this little bit of pain

When asked about it she's humble and meek

If she told what could she possibly gain?



It started so easy, but then the blade slipped

She's suddenly feeling quite faint

And then she realized if only she'd quit

She would not have to harbor restraint.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is about when I was addicted to cutting. Yes. Addicted. When one cuts themselves, their body releases endorphines that make them feel happy, or calm. I was addicted to that feeling. It's as if you scraped your knee - the endorphines are released, and you feel better after a while. 2004

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forgeteden's picture

I can relate to this poem completely. I, too, was addicted to the pain of it. Not only did I do it to not focus on the pain of reality, but because it felt so good and it got me through the day.
I really like this one, it's sad but not at the same time.