Put on a dazzling smile so that no one can see your pain.
You hide it all so well, but underneath your shirt you can still feel the scars.
No one knows what it is like to be you.
Your smile is but one in a billion,
A mask that you wear to ward off the questions.
Your scars are your war paint,
But this is a losing battle.
You are sent to face the demons all alone, though they will never leave your side.
So keep that pretty smile steady,
And don't let one tear drop from those stormy eyes.
Put on your war paint and go out into the world, where your smile makes you just like them.
· How Many People Self-Injure?
· What are the Problems a Self-Injurer faces?
· Why Would Someone Self-Injure?
· If Someone Tells You They Self-Injure
· If the Self-Injurer Wants Treatment
· What Not To Do
· Self-Injury Awareness
This report will discuss three main questions: How many people self-injure, what are the problems a self-injurer faces, and why would someone self-injure. It will focus on self-injury in North America, as most of the statistics are American or Canadian. Self-injury is commonly split into three categories: psychotic, organic, and typical. The majority of self-injurers are in the typical category, so the report will focus on it. The following list gives a brief description for each category.
· Psychotic: Self-injury that usually occurs during an extreme psychosis caused
hawk-eyed man into my head, ninety four hours
since I last drank myself to sleep, and thirty two
minutes since I last kept my mother from the truth.
Tonight, she still thinks I have hope, but it may be
the last time she believes I'm still whole.
i. Last night, I dreamt of the boy next door, the gun
in his drawer, the whiskey under his bed, the hate
in his eyes when he drags me out of bed to tell me
I've ruined another story, I've fanned another flame.
This boy does not know my mother, but I suspect
they would get along quite well.
2. The last time my father crossed the ocean, I explained
to my mother that the cogs ground too hard, that the
The depression is great
And the pains lasts so long
And it never seems to cease
As if all has gone wrong
And in the throes of your anguish
You take a silver blade
And use your body as canvas
With blood figures now made
The knife cuts so true
And the sorrow seems to cease
And the euphoria of bloodlust
Shall give your soul some lease
Yet do not fall victim
For to cut is a lie
That it is a vent for your sorrow
And will give you peace of mind
Because depression never leaves you
And clings to you and holds
Because the heart has not been healed
Only anesthesia to be cold
Because the scars will always tell you
About the misery you thought left
And will never cease remind you
Of how weak you are in depth
Save your own skin
For it is precious and your own
Through courage and strength
That you have already shown
For hope is still alive
And your heart will always heal
Away from the bloodied blade
Away from pain that makes you reel
Have hope that things get better
For surely you are strong