Poetry of Death

To her. By M.E.

Is it fun
to cut yourself,
to slap yourself,
to hit yourself,
to hurt yourself and hide it from everybody else? 
If not, then why? Why do you do it? 
Does it make you hurt less inside? 
Does it take away the pain in there?
Does it stop the voices telling you to die?
Telling you you're not worth love?
Saying you don't deserve to live? 
I don't understand. 

When you put knife to skin,
when you drive hand to cheek,
do you think to yourself, “I deserve this”?
Do you tell yourself,  “I shouldn't be alive”?
But if you do, 
if that's all you think, 
why don't you remember that I am here?
“Think of me, if you don't think of yourself,” you know?
I wish I could say that to you. 
I did, 
I used to, 
but I don't know if it's enough
to bring you back to your senses.

Please don't go, 
please don't leave me in this world, 
what would I do if you gave up? 
I can't even bear to think of it. 
You say you're selfish, 
you say you're useless, 
you say you're just wasting the oxygen,
but don't you know? 
You're why I'm here,
you're why I still exist on this earth,
you're why I live. 

But hey, if I told you that, 
maybe I'd burden you even more. 

I know you care, 
I know you would never want to wish pain on me,
those letters you've written me, 
those gifts you spent hours picking for me,
heartfelt, sincere,
you make me feel so special, 
but maybe I'm not worth this. 
Why do you love me? 
You tell your feelings to go away,
and you think I feel the same way back, 
but
maybe I don't. 
Maybe I was born this way. 
I don't know, we're too young.
“Wait”, that's what I tell us both. 
I'm scared. 
What would you do, what would you feel if I told you all this?
What would I do, how would I feel if you read this? 
But then you probably won't. 
Not even trying to hide who you are anymore. 

I don't know,
I just wish I could stop your pain.
I don't know how to help you,
I can't even help myself.
But I love you, 
in some way, 
I don't want to hurt you, 
but I probably will because I can be heartless.
So can you.
Maybe that's why we got along so well in the beginning. 

But still,
I'm here. 
I promise I'll always be. 
Even if… something happens.
I'm going to be here. 
I'll always be here for you. 
So please,
don't go.
If there's anything I can do to lessen your pain,
I'll gladly do it, 
but I don't know what that is, 
you've got to talk to me, 
I try to make you, 
I get it out of you,
but still, I don't know.
I'm not smart enough to think of a solution. 
I don't know how to help you.
I'm sorry. 

I'd do anything for you, 
so tell me, tell me,
if there's anything you need. 

I'm waiting. 
I always am. 
I'll always be.