Hannah Capps
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Jan 29, 2006
- Messages
- 1,451
I’m the pretty thing that time forgot, I’ve been left to sing and rot.
I unmarked, the one you miss, I’m the closing clawing fist.
I’m a soul to those of foe, once seen back to and fro.
Deuce deranged, tetrad missed.
Wailing mess, silent twist.
Remember the time, we use to dance?
You the stab and I the chance?
Shredded arms in shifting skin;
Dressing gown of braided sin?
Yes you the thing that I forgot,
You the act unlearned, untaught.
(This is a poem about my former struggles with self harm, and the haunting memories that mark my skin, it's a reminder that it's worth unlearning this destructive 'coping vice' but as a reader of a poem it can apply to many things and that is the beauty of writing and the human experience.)
I unmarked, the one you miss, I’m the closing clawing fist.
I’m a soul to those of foe, once seen back to and fro.
Deuce deranged, tetrad missed.
Wailing mess, silent twist.
Remember the time, we use to dance?
You the stab and I the chance?
Shredded arms in shifting skin;
Dressing gown of braided sin?
Yes you the thing that I forgot,
You the act unlearned, untaught.
(This is a poem about my former struggles with self harm, and the haunting memories that mark my skin, it's a reminder that it's worth unlearning this destructive 'coping vice' but as a reader of a poem it can apply to many things and that is the beauty of writing and the human experience.)
Last edited:
