Anyone, member or not, can submit a poem to publish on our site about depression or cutting. Just send it to the usual address, silkies, and we'll put it up and give you full credit.

Untitled
by Katie

And I tell myself it's helping,
And I tell myself I'm doing the right thing,
And I tell myself not to open up,
Not to tell the real thing,
But everyday someone new asks,
And everyday they say can I see?
I smile and just laugh it all off,
But then I cough,
And I choke on my tears,
The angels above are trying to shine,
I know I keep them on a tight line,
Time rolls on by,
All I can do is sigh,
And I shrug it off,
I shrug it off,
I always shrug it off,
And I tell myself it's helping,
And I tell myself I 'm doing the right thing,
And I tell myself not to open up,
Not to tell the real thing,
I hide in my cold hands,
They hold together like lonely bands,
My only friends,
I don't want this brought to the end,
All of their tears,
Always screaming-they hurt my ears,
My heart is untouched and bare,
All I ever see is one long lifeless stare,
And I try so hard not to end it,
And I sometimes try to hold on-even if it is a little bit,
All I am is fear,
And I am always here,
I never go away,
But I don't ever stay,
So if I seem lost,
Just give me a tear and a toss,
I'll fall and my skin will bleed,
But that is all that I ever seem to need,
A drop of red,
Always helps clear up my head,
You don't realize-you don't know,
You'd never understand if I told you though,
So sometimes I wonder why I even try,
It's not enough to just cry,
I need something much deeper,
And I think this one is a definite keeper,
And I tell myself it's helping,
And I tell myself I'm doing the right thing,
And I tell myself not to open up,
Not to tell the real thing,
Time has come-and it has gone,
And this has been way too long,
I think maybe it' time to wave good-bye,
But before I go-I'll give it one more try,
Oh hell-forget that,
One last final sigh,
The end is near,
Can you feel it too my dear?
And I tell myself it's helping,
And I tell myself I'm doing the right thing,
And I tell myself not to open up,
Not to tell the real thing.

What I pray for....

I pray to go to sleep and wake up happy.
I pray to go to sleep and never wake up again.
I pray to go to sleep and wake up and every thing will be better.

I know that when ever I go to sleep I will not dream of happiness.
I know that when ever I go to sleep I will wake up again.
I know that when ever I go to sleep I will wake up and all the pain will still be there.

I see every one and know that they are happy.
I see every one and know that I am not going to be like them, happy.
I see every one and know that they will be happy tommaroww and the next day
and I will not.

Don't they see?
Don't they see that my mutalation isn't a cry for help or attention?
Don't they see that I will never be normal?
Don't they see that I will never be happy?

Why do they say that I will be happy?
Why do they say that every thing is going to get better?

I know I will never be happy.
I know things arn't going to get any better.

But, they still say that they care.
But, they still say that they care.
But, they still say that they care.

They don't know me.
No one knows me.
They don't know how I feel
They will never know.
They are happy.
That is why they will never know me.
I am sad.
They are happy.

Don't they see that every time I sit down I force a smile?
Don't they see that I am just I am just walking dead?
Don't they see that I am just a living dead person?
Don't they see that I wan't to be dead?

THEY DON'T SEE.
THEY ARE BLIND.
THEY MAKE UP SOME GOD OR SATAN TO EXPLAIN THERE SADNESS OR HAPPIENESS.
THEY DON'T SEE THAT THERE IS NO GOD NOR SATAN.
THEY CAN TRY TO SEE AS HARD AS THEY CAN.
THEY WILL NEVER SEE.

See that my tears are for ever flowing.
See that my tears are not of water.
See that they are of blood.

They think I am crazy.
They think I am immature.
They think I am not adult enough to hadle my problems like one.

I can't.
I can't ever deal with them
I can't I can't I can't

What I pray for.
What I pray for is the final embrase.
What I pray for is the release.
What I pray for is....is death.

By: Justin Covington

Anemone
By Emily

She sits with her face towards the cement wall,
The vinal cot beneath her reeks of sickness and disease.
She lies there staring blankly, bloodied wrists towards the sky.
Her last ray of hope seeps from her.

They caught her in the basement, knife in hand.
They saw her, bleeding into the dirty sink.
The knife fell to the floor, catching the blinding light.

They screamed and she cowered against the wall.
The radiator frosted the window, hiding the bleak winter world beyond

The nurse came and brought her to this hellhole.
She stared first at the linoleum, then at the ceiling, now at the wall
She cried, wept, bled,
The nurse came and bandaged her wrists.

She screamed, hit the walls with balled fists,
The nurse stared wide-eyed, passerby stopped to watch.
The girl's eyes bugged out as she fell, crashing to the floor.

Her head hit the tile.

Dirt billows as they poured it into her grave.
Dust to dust, to earth she returns.

Ode to despair.
By Ben Greener.

The boy goes upstairs and closes his door,
His family below know not that which he’s about to do.
He alone knows what this is for,
Though he wishes "If only they knew".

It started so easy, but now it’s hard to end,
With every cut his truth becomes harder to tell.
The scars on his arm will simply not mend,
If only someone shared his personal Hell.

The girl he loved who went away,
Would she have stayed if she knew what he’d been through?.
This question means his mind cannot lay,
He’d tell her now but it’s too late and there’s nothing left to do.

It started so easy, just a scratch here and there,
But the cuts became stabs and slashes.
He uncovers the arm with a hint of despair,
And wonders if we truly end up as ashes.

So he sits against his door,
The scalpel replaced for tomorrow.
He watches the blood emerge from his arm and run onto the floor,
And cries with anguish and sorrow.

Tears in the rain
byBen Greener

Arriving in class, the room falls silent,
You lay down your books, though you hear it all.
People look upon you with unhidden resentment,
You don’t accompany them down to the mall.

The teacher avoids you, at your parents request,
The dream from last night still burns in your head.
Staying in touch is becoming a quest.
Would this affect you if in fact you were dead?

The dream of the world enshrouded in black,
It seemed so real and clear.
This world would be fine for you, if only you could find a way back.
You let the textbook cover your face, enclosing the single shed tear.

The scars on you arm,
The cut from last night,
You know their doing you harm,
But how else can you fight?

You once wore a shirt, but never again,
You thought they might understand.
Your explanations fell like tears.. in the rain.

Broken Child
byKathy Barton

A little girl-so sweet & shy
a trusted uncle made her cry
from ages 6 to 12 years old
"its our secret" he said-she never told
growing up feeling empty & lost
did he know how much it would cost?
No! he didnt care about the child standing there
dealing with selfhatred-drowning in tears
he just cared about his sexual needs
now she stands here-needing to bleed
taking a razor-being percise
cutting her arm-slice after slice
feelings of anger & love betrayed
for yrs she kept quiet & always obeyed
until she could keep it no longer inside
Too much pain-she wanted to die
how could he do that to a child?
messing up her head-innocents defiled
its just too hard-day after day
so this is what I have to say
take a knife-cut it deep
drops of blood before I sleep
if I die before I wake
life was just too cruel to take
relief is felt & blood flows red
feeling alive-insted of dead
selfhatred, anger, guilt flow out
total satisfaction-without a doubt
fighting depression everday
insecurities & fear along the way
low self esteem, feelings of dispair
but nobody ever said life was fair
There's alot of us here-you see
abused, broken, wanting to be free
were afraid, scarred needing care
looking for help-is anyone there?
Dont look at us in discust
a non-judgemental attitude is a must
remember were still lost children inside
running from the pain we try to hide
just reach out & be a friend
dont lie to us or try to pretend
give us comfort when we cry
so we dont give up & decide to die
scars tell a story of the pain inside
revealing our secrets we try to hide
showing the misery that alot of us share
hoping & praying someone will care
maybe if you look deep in my eyes
you'll see the child behind the cries
& the things that murdered her soul
& the selfhatred thats taking its toll
we numb our brains to stay alive
whatever we have to do to survive
we cut ourselves & burn our skin
to punish ourselves & get rid of sin
were looked upon as freaks & outcasts
but were just trying to get rid of the past
to destroy the images & lies that were told
that left us broken, messed up & cold
if you really listen & try to understand
maybe I'll trust you & take your hand
just listen to me when I need your ears
give me your arms to hug away my fears
help me rip out the crazy thoughts inside
& try to find the part of me that died
help me to like myself again
stick with me & be a true friend.