All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Black Cross
I slide the blade
Along my wrist one more time.
This is suppose to take away the pain,
But it just adds to it.
Blood trickles along my flesh
My eyes are red shot,
All dried up,
containing no more tears.
My session is now over,
I begin the fix myself up.
I paint a black cross onto my wrist,
As an attempt to cover up the damage I have done.
Long sleeves are now all I wear,
They help keep my secret locked away.
No one can find out,
they will only judge.
I am not suppose to have this struggle,
I am the happy girl, who loves life.
But underneath I am insecure,
and weak.
Really I am ugly and worthless,
and stupid and unloved.
But I am not suppose to be,
So I am not.
Yet, I draw my black cross every night.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.