Damn it. I loved it, but it brought me back to my cutting days.

you express your feeling beautifully. Glad you can pull yourself out of that situation.

You always express yourself remarkably in poems and this is no exception. Well done, Poetic! You know I love your stuff, always.

That is such a powerful poem. It is full of despair. I am so glad you are not in that situation now. Very good work.

Christine

a very powerful write.

This is a brave but stunningly beautiful poem. Expressed effortlessly, loved it.

Powerful and brave, I’m so glad you are out of it now, I love your poems, there’s so much emotion there.

Great write! Glad you’re better!

Pain erases pain…emotionally well written poem

I agree, this was a very powerful poem. You were so brave to put the words to this.

I really like the edginess of this piece. It provides the reader with the same kind of morose thinking that goes through the mind when people think about hurting themselves. “Pack the wounds with salt/I want to feel the pain” does that very well, because at a baser level, it says: I have too much inner pain that I don’t want to deal with, I want to be distracted from it by something physical.

However, even in sharing this there is still the overwhelming sense that the narrator is closing out the world, not inviting it in. When your narrator says “You’ll never understand anything/About my misery, my life” he/she is telling the reader not to interfere with such self-loathing, because to this pain-muddled perception that reader has nothing to offer that will be accepted.

No offense, but the idea that no one understands, that is a myth, as well as the idea that pain erases pain. Humans are meant to be social creatures. Everyone knows what pain and suffering is, even if some pains to others are minor. And, being distracted from inner pain by causing outer pain is more cyclic than some realize.

There is a phrase in this piece that doesn’t really fit. That phrase is “this heart made of stone”. Hearts that are made of stone are hearts that are incapable of feeling anything. Surely, the narrator, who is bent on suffering in solitude, is feeling something. In fact, I would suggest that this heart is made more of flesh than most. Do you mean something else by this phrase? Do you mean Will made of stone? Do you mean mind made of stone? Do you mean desire, or destiny made of stone? Anyway,… you’ll figure it out.

In spite of the way it looks, I did enjoy this free form, for what it’s worth. Thanks for sharing and take care.

I have suffered with depression for most of my life and can understand how someone would physically want to hurt themselves in some way. Mine was through alcohol abuse and not wanting to face the pain I was feeling.

It took you a lot of courage to write about your experience.

I can relate…
You are a beautiful writer and i hope to see more great poems!!