POEM - "Red Tears"

Sir,
Why, oh why, do you torture me so?
Only come around to leave scars – then go.
Only useful if you’re losing track of time,
There isn’t a clock around? Here, have mine.

For I have no need for most of what’s on me.
I can’t read or breathe; think or even see.
I am your reminders when you forget:
For you penetrate me – with ink, at that moment.

I’m always manhandled by those that you greet.
So when you decide it’s your turn, it’s quite a shock for me.
I don’t understand why you chose me to harm?
For I am just the wrist connecting your hand and forearm.

If it wasn’t for me, Sir, you wouldn’t able to do this.
You wouldn’t be able to cut and strike me with no wrist.
What about your stomach and thighs?
Because they’re the reason that my red tears fly.

Or how about you use your mouth?
Don’t bite or shout.
But talk to someone, who knows what it’s like
To have an abusive life

Or sit in front of a mirror, and cry,
Because your tears are better than mine:
Too many of my tears, and you die.

POEM - "Red Tears"

benchurchill

Aylesbury, United Kingdom

  • Artist
    Notes

Artist's Description

I have read a lot, and have many friends, that have – or still do – self harm. The thought of it and the mental processes those involved must go through intrigue me. I have always wondered, also, why self-harming is frowned upon and is a lot of the time stereotyped.
That is the reason for this poem.

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