UNTITLED POEM She didn't know when to stop She didn't know how, All she knew of was the satisfaction, The satisfaction she'd felt after each cut She enjoyed watching the blood slowly drip down her arm, The tinge of pain that occurred after each cut, She enjoyed the sizzling sensation of the blade piercing through her skin, because for once the numbness would disappear She knew this was wrong but she still continued, It became something she'd seek comfort and relief from She couldn't stop even if she wanted to, She knew deep down she was killing herself - slowly and silently She did this every single night, Praying to a God she knew nothing of, Hoping that someone would save her And make her feel alive again.

BROKEN She sat there, burning in her loneliness With a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach They made her feel worthless, weak and weary She tried to hold on to her last thread of sanity Letting her tears fall freely, For all those days of silent suffering She was broken and nobody could fix her. ( this is an original #poem which I can proudly say, was luckily chosen to be published in a book for young writers )