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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: UN-CUTdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: pinurplepassion
    ASL Info:    24/f/somewhere in TX
    Elite Ratio:    5.92 - 165/146/17
    Words: 378
    Class/Type: Poetry/Serious
    Total Views: 1104
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2547



    Description:
       I am well aware that this is gonna piss a lot of people off. So be it. I am not trying to belittle anyone or to minimize the problem, but I feel as though more and more, this is happening because somehow, somewhere along the way, it got glorified. Yes, I did go through it, and no, I am no longer ashamed of it, but I certainly aint proud of it. So yeah, I dont expect much commentary on the format or substance of the write, although I would like some. Like I said, I felt I needed to say this sooo I am ready for it, Let me have it.


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsUN-CUTdots
    -------------------------------------------


    I read all the poems written by "cutters",
    And it takes me back 8 or 10 years,
    To a broken winged angel on a cold,
    black and white tiled bathroom floor........

    A cutter before the epidemic,
    Before the phenomenon rocked our youth,
    Before it was "cool",
    Before it held no shame,
    Before we stopped hiding the pain.
    This is not an emotional plea,
    But I listened to your cries
    So, now, hear me.

    I sat on that cold, hard bathroom floor,
    And waited for the pain inside to die.
    Of course it didn't,
    You all know the story.
    Trade the pain in my heart for the pain outside.
    I didn't reach for blades of steel,
    Sharp edged pieces with a point.
    There was no point.
    Instead I used a wire hanger,
    Bent until it broke.
    Jagged edge.

    Forearms, thighs, stomach, wrists,
    All the same places you choose.
    Easy to hide, when you wear the "right clothes",
    That's the difference between me and you.
    I hid my cuts and prayed,
    That nobody would ever see,
    The disgusting length I stooped too,
    Just trying to "stop the pain".

    The scar that left the deepest mark,
    The most "symbolic" cut of all
    Is the one that mocks my left breast,
    Right above my beating heart.
    And after all these years I remember,
    I gouged a line upon my chest,
    Because he hurt me so deeply.
    Damn what was his name?

    As I sit here now, I look at my arms,
    I see the fading remnants of my "battle scars".
    I remember a girl so full of dispair,
    Digging holes in her body
    For what?
    I dont remember now.

    A cutter stopped cutting.
    There was no fighting the urge.
    There was no overcoming temptation.
    There were no doctor's diagnoses.
    There was no lingering longing.
    Just a girl who realized how silly she looked,
    Wearing long sleeves in August,
    To hide it.

    And I survived,
    Through the loss of friends,
    The loss of lovers,
    The loss of innocence,
    The loss of MY CHILD.
    Without a single thought,
    of tearing my flesh just to watch myself bleed.
    This is not an emotional plea,
    But if you choose to keep "cutting",
    Don't bleed on me.




    Submitted on 2005-03-15 03:52:49     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!




    ||| Comments |||
      Un-circumcized penis's-is what I was thinking comming in -which didn't exactly sit well -but hey it's lovely surprise that you were talking about cutting instead -what a treat-
    WOW i ACTUALLY HAVE A TEAR IN MY EYE. awwww man this sux joye, YOU were a cutter? REALLY ... your 25 is that right -I mean the cutting thing...I just cant believe it...
    Your poem is totally You made me NOT understand it/what it is to be a cutter because that I just wont BUT I do see that maybe-i could be more lienient in accepting peoples pain-because obviously it happens I guess- I just dont really get it I'm sorry
    L.t But good strong words -I hope some cutters read this damn thing and see how silly it made yoyu feel...cause boy is it ever-talk later
    L.t (and dnd is my fav too -I think its so cool that you put me in that catergory-I am flattered but dont tell david that)
    | Posted on 2005-07-27 00:00:00 | by LameMansTerms | [ Reply to This ]
      I, for one, am glad you wrote this and hopefully it will reach a few who really need to hear it. I think maybe if we learned to feel all our feelings, even the bad ones, without getting desperate over it or feeling that it's the end of the world, maybe cutting can become a thing of the past. because really, it's not cool. but I guess you know that.
    | Posted on 2005-03-19 00:00:00 | by sierramuse8 | [ Reply to This ]
      Hey Purps ;0)

    Strong poem/statement you have written here. I do not really have anything to say, more then I enjoyed the passion, the energy you have build in this particular poem. You must have been through a bloody hell and I am glad that you survived it even though

    the loss of friends,
    The loss of lovers,
    The loss of innocence,
    The loss of MY CHILD

    Bleeding in the “battle of scars”

    “MY Child”, should I understand that literally or ?

    Keep it coming purps, you really have something on your heart. ;0)

    Keep writing ;0)

    KNS
    | Posted on 2005-03-19 00:00:00 | by KNS | [ Reply to This ]
      I really enjoyed this. It didn't feel so much "anti-cutter" (like a few of the similarly themed poems I've read recently), but more "anti-cutting". Just lashing out about the act of cutting itself, and the dismal failure it is as a coping mechanism.

    I have a friend that cuts, and legitimately struggles with it. She's young, she's ashamed, and I feel like I have a better idea of what drives cutting now for having read it... without being made to feel sympathetic.

    This is, in its own morbid way, a beautiful piece.
    | Posted on 2005-03-18 00:00:00 | by jer | [ Reply to This ]
      Wow. I need to think for a second. This is one of those poems where I don't know how to feel at the end. Its a terrible situation, the cutting and all, and the losses you say you've gone through (The loss of my CHILD. That one hits hard), but in the end, as you say, you survived. There's a lot of hope here, truth and raw emotion.
    "I gouged a line upon my chest,
    Because he hurt me so deeply.
    Damn what was his name?"
    I love these lines, or I should say these lines are well written (don't want to sound like I'm enjoying your pain or anything). There does seem to be a bit of fat that can be trimmed, but I have a problem with that too, so not too big a deal. Excellent job.
    HWKI
    | Posted on 2005-03-15 00:00:00 | by HWKI | [ Reply to This ]
      Fan-fukin-tastic.

    I've been waiting on someone writing this poem for ages. All this angst...

    I'm nearly thirty and was known for my own brand of daftness at one time as well. I got away from it by looking outside myself where the world kept turning and discovered that I can't grudge a person happiness because my own life wasn't so good.

    I just no longer have it in me to sympathise in the slightest with the current trendiness of hurting yourself when things turn sour.

    We all have our baggage to carry, it's just about finding the handles. Good write, good point well made.
    | Posted on 2005-03-15 00:00:00 | by Sanny | [ Reply to This ]
      you never told me about this because???
    anyways go cuz speak out agianst the majority and prove em wrong and where does that guy live now because i think i have plane tickets to buy
    | Posted on 2005-03-15 00:00:00 | by Georgia Gurl | [ Reply to This ]
      thank you. thank you for boldly stating that cutting is not "cool", that today it is often a fad. and thank you for writing a piece with honest emotion that seems to, in a manner of speaking, validate your actions. i wrote a piece a few weeks ago that was blatantly anti-cutters. it was harsh, and really the point of my piece was to see if i could overwhelm people's emotions and reduce them to "you hurt my feelings" rather than "this is my critique of your poem", and it worked. i'm proud of the piece i wrote for no other reason than that it accomplished what i intended. but what you've written here is absolutely fantastic. and i love the recurring theme of "it hurt so bad then...i can't remember why...". you've done very well here.
    | Posted on 2005-03-15 00:00:00 | by treybur | [ Reply to This ]
      Oh...this is written very well, you obviously knew exactly what you wanted to say. I didn't stumble at all and that shows that you wrote it with a clarity and wisdom of taking away the lesson from all of it. I don't read many of the poems about cutting- it terrifies me quite frankly. When I was in highschool, the worst you heard about was someone dropping acid before homeroom, or a girl in your biology class who made herself throw up after lunch. Now I am the mother of a preteen and it is a different world out there. I worry for her and for her peers. I am so happy that you have learned and grown from your experience and think it was extremely brave of you to put this piece out there. We all have things that need dealing with- we all have sickness to some degree. No judgement on this piece- I see beauty and a young woman who knows who she is and has come through a battle a winner. I hope some of the other cutters read this and take away what you intended. Magnolia I also love your title.
    | Posted on 2005-03-15 00:00:00 | by Magnolia | [ Reply to This ]
      OMG! A full-fledged cutter poem that actually kept my attention all the way through and made me think and feel!

    Some really strong points made here Joye. I love how you have forgotten the name of the boy who "made you" cut your chest. How extremely powerful that statement should be to those thinking about hurting themselves. See, mostly it's a way to get sympathy or understanding or to try and make others feel guilty or helpless, but in the overall scheme of things, life goes on, and the only scars left are teh self-imposed scars. Unfortuanately, those scars don't teach lessons or promote growth the way other forms of dealing with pain do, like talking them through with a friend or ones self, or accepting the fact that we all face these same problems and eventually we do get over them.

    A cutter stopped cutting.
    There was no fighting the urge.
    There was no overcoming temptation.
    There were no doctor's diagnoses.
    There was no lingering longing.
    Just a girl who realized how silly she looked,
    Wearing long sleeves in August,
    To hide it.

    And I survived

    bravo! how silly indeed. and how strong and mature of you to see it.

    You've managed to do the unthinkable...write a piece about cutting that asks for no sympathy or glory, but only to see how stupid it is.

    But if you choose to keep "cutting",
    Don't bleed on me.

    I think this echoes the feeling of every generation that is over the age (or maturity level) of 15.
    | Posted on 2005-03-15 00:00:00 | by deadndreaming | [ Reply to This ]


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