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Array
(
[sid] => 53671
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Cutter's Anthem
[time] => 2004-06-25 12:49:15
[hometext] => I wrote this when my friend and i realized that there isn't an Anthem for people like us...
[bodytext] => A bright and shiny blade. Crystal clear and clean Turning it over and over In my uncut hand. Raising the blade I breathe deep And look at my rows of scabs and scars. The pain and hurt; it goes away once my Skin is cut. I breathe true only when I bleed. All shall be released once the blood begins to drip. Knowing this I raise my hand recalling words I’ve known This is not the way to die I scream. It’s a way to Keep from never waking up. I keep my sleeves and pant legs long so I can Conceal the dark red lines. They cross over and over the skin marking X’s And I’s and the anarchy sign. This is my anthem to all who slice and Dice and cut. Stand up and be counted. Be known and don’t hide. You are you and we is us; we cannot ever change. It’s simple like that. This sings praises to those with scars. The ones with tacks and razors. The ones in black who sit it back And carve with pens and pencils. The ones who know they aren’t alone, They just prefer to be. Stress, love, school, relationships, and death. Pain, boredom, curiosity, friendship, and life. Reasons I did, reasons for you To watch the blood flow and pool at my feet; Falling asleep with razor in hand’ Just waiting for a time to run away with the knife To carve upon your legs No one else is there but you and you like it. The blood, the pain, all the anger. It gets to be too much. You don’t want to die but the anger has to be released With just one cut it’s all gone. This is my anthem to all who slice and dice and cut. Stand up and be counted, be known and don’t hide, You are you and we is us We can’t and will not change. It’s simple like that. Feels good, huh? To see the blood I mean. People look and all they see is someone who cannot cope. They have their ways of coping and I guess so do we. Just what we do is a little self-destructive. No one has to know. So no one ever does. This is why we’re lonely. A cult who can’t stay away from all the shiny Sharp sweet silver now stained a deep red. Running my fingers across my scars, Deep and pink with age. I remember when I sat and dragged The tack across my arm. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. This is my anthem to all who slice and dice and cut. Stand up and be counted be known and don’t hide. You are you and we is us. Don’t ever ever change! Let those who love us, love us. Let those who don’t, don’t. All that matters is the blade and all the blood. I look at my blade and lower my arms. Tears begin to fall. I’ll live with those scars forever and Nothing will ever change. I put my blade away for now but it’ll see skin again. Probably tomorrow, then I might cut again. This is my anthem to all who slice and dice and cut. I’m with you and love you all I do. -FINALS WEEK, 2004- [comments] => 4 [counter] => 153 [topic] => 32 [informant] => hisbeautifulnightmare [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 13 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => SadPoetry )
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