As I sit there in the darkness,
Upon this bed of thorns,
In my head the thoughts shouting,
I close my eyes and think again,
Of all the pain they have given me,
And I think of throwing it in their faces,
Making them suffer, as they made me,
I look to the blade upon the bed,
And think just once why don’t I use it,
But no, I am too scared,
To scared to let them see it hurts,
To afraid to let them realise,
I am not the perfect little girl,
That I make them think I am,
To afraid to let the hurt shine through,
To afraid to let them know the pain,
Just in case they think it stupid,
Hateful comments, spoken softly,
Can’t change the fact,
That they are all too hateful,
Hatred burning,
Anger rising,
Sadness surfacing,
Emotions running wild in sand,
Leaving a footprint on the beach,
Dark corridors, hateful and blank,
A maze built of spite,
A maze built to confuse,
Hating you, hating me,
Hating the whole damned world,
But still I sit here upon the bed,
Contemplating the knife,
As I reach out to the knife,
I can feel deaths touch,
It’s coming closer,
I know if I use the knife,
It will be the last thing I do,
I retract my hand,
Sitting back upon the bed of thorns,
My vision clouded,
I think again,
About the hate, the hurt, the sadness,
Slowly I close my eyes,
Thinking on it all,
I think "what the hey,
Perfect way to throw it back,
Right into their god damned faces,"
My hand is shaking as I am reaching,
The knife is drawing near,
And so is the hand of death,
I pick up this knife,
Look down on it for a bit,
Then hurl it right at the door,
Tears flowing,
Emotions spilt,
I scream out,
"I WON’T LET IT GET TO ME,"
I sit back on this bed,
The bed littered with thorns,
I frown and think again,
Grab a pad and a pen,
And quickly scribble down these words,
And finally I have the nerve,
To show my feelings to the world,
In one way the knife helped me,
More than it would have,
If it had touched my delicate skin,
More than it could have,
If it had made the blood flow,
I lie back on the bed of thorns,
Close my eyes,
And weep much needed tears.
