This is a poem written for my freshman writing class. |
Reality Pointless, self-comforting pain An escape from an unending reality A way to feel what’s real without death A slice, a simple cut It fixes everything And then the wound heals It heals Causing the damage to be pointless, except for that first moment of pain No one knows the cause of everything Other than an escape from your current reality It’s a little wound, a small cut And it keeps you quiet, helps to keep out death You crave death Death will eventually be what heals But now all you have is the cut And all it gives you is momentary pain A brief flash of reality A way to keep out everything It all pushes in on you, pressure from everything Anything can be proven horrible, anything except the unknown, except death Cut by a broken reality A wound always heals A temporary escape can be found through the pain Loss of control over your own life and therefore a cut It centers around the cut The cut is everything There is no real pain No pain except in death It all heals The pain is the only reality Blood drips and pools, shaping your reality It is all caused by the slash, the cut Damage caused by life never fully heals The damage forms and kills everything And yet you shy from the unknown, from death It’s all based on the pain Harsh reality is known to cut People fear pain and therefore fear you and everything that is a part of you You fear death and so you sit quietly, alone, as you hope to heal |