Cutting

I feel like hurting myself
Every day
And killing myself
Every other.
I don’t know why.
My life is good.
But somehow I don’t buy into it.
I feel pressure
From every side.
My life is broken down
Into moments.
Some ok.
Some good.
Some bad.
Some beyond
My grasp.
I can’t discuss this
With anyone.
No one would understand.
They would just say no,
Don’t do it.
And that’s not enough.
I have to change my mind
And my mind is set.
I’ve thought about cutting myself.
Somehow the idea appeals.
Perhaps the pressure
Could be released
If I just cut enough
And cleaned and bandaged
The wound.
The more disturbing thought
Is suicide.
I’ve always been able
To fight that thought off
By thinking of the people
I would hurt
By my death.
But I realize now
That death ends all.
All the thoughts of other people.
All the worries of the life
I leave behind.
I don’t want to be
So dramatic.
I want to love life
And feel inspired every day.
But that’s just not
The way I feel.