| These poems were all written by Ellen. Click here to go to her live journal, or here to email her. WARNING: Some poems may be triggering! |
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| SILENCE KILLS What you don't say kills me inside, It's like I'm gone, feels like I died. You don't know what to do with me, But I'm hurt more than what you see. I hurt me but you hurt more, You hurt like no knife did before. Razors cut, get numb with pills, An iron burns but silence kills. You tore me up and left me there, You broke my heart but you don't care. Your silence feels like razor blades, The problem is your cuts won't fade. I bleed when you tore me apart, From the wound inside my heart. Some scars will fade while other stay, The scar you made won't go away. I hurt me but you hurt more, You hurt like no knife did before. Razors cut, get numb with pills, An iron burns but silence kills. Without you my life's a hell, I'm hurting more than words can tell. I wish that you could see what's true: That I'm sorry, and I love you. I hurt me but you hurt more, You hurt like no knife did before. Razors cut, get numb with pills, An iron burns but silence kills. |
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| HOMESICK Longing, nostalgic. Homesick for the place that isn't my home, Aching, depressed, and feeling alone. Homesick. Missing something I know that I shouldn't, Wanting to give up, but knowing I couldn't. Why am I missing something I should forget? Homesick for something that left my soul bent. A pain that runs deep, it needs to be freed By a razor, a knife; The ache's gone when I bleed. But a deeper pain is left in its place, For it'd never truly gone. Only replaced. I know that I shouldn't, but I miss it so much. I long for the hunger and the razor's sharp touch. My soul aches for the place I left long ago, My heart burns at the knowledge I've let these things go. It's gone though, I know, it's part of my past. The symptoms are gone but the illness still lasts. Homesick. I've left the place I've learned to call home, I've lost my release and my comfort zone. I gave up my razors, my obsession with vanity, It left a deep hole; But I'm regaining sanity. |
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| I SEE I see a grinning skeleton, a painting, reflected in the glass. Eyes dark as the soul and empty as the stomach. Dead, emotionless, like two dark voids without any depth. Inside the body are the organs that fail to perform their service, the heart that beats slower with every dying breath... Another void within the chest. Skin stretched taut over weakening bones, the well-defined ribs probing the skin, protruding sharply in rows like a cage that trap the victim, the soul, in their deadly grip. I see a life without any purpose. The years gone to waste as the organism starves. Somewhere inside a voice waits for its chance to yell out, to protest before the light of life goes out for good. Each day it gets softer, weaker, as the disease screams out and takes on more power. I see the victim of anorexia, the victim of her own demise. The lies dipped in a deceiving, shiny gold, the truth only revealed when no hope for life or salvation remains. The hair that falls out in greasy clumps, no longer straining to stay attached, the body no longer striving to survive. I see the skeleton and know the disease, I see the painting in the glass. I know the lies and the art of deception, for it is my reflection the mirror shows. |
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| THE HURT OF PAIN Scissors, knives, a razor blade, A drop of blood, the cut I made. The tears of blood, my scars of shame, What I don't say, the hurt of pain. If you took away the scars I made, If you stole me knives, my razor blade, If you gave me tears and words instead, I'd still have pain inside my head. You break my heart, I break my skin, To tell you what you did is a sin. You ask what's wrong but I won't tell, I'm trapped inside my mind's own hell. With no way out, no tears to cry, With no complaints, no sighs to sigh, I say what's wrong with silent words, With pain and blood, with endless hurt. If you took away the scars I made, If you stole my knives, my razor blade, If you gave me tears and words instead, I'd still have pain inside my head. I try to stop but I can't bear To put up with the pain that's there. I'll be this way until I'm dead, ‘Cause I can't talk with words instead. What I do to stop the pain Makes me hurt more, makes me insane. Don't make the same mistake as me, Words can't explain how trapped you'll be. Talk with words, not with your pain, Look in your heart for what to say. Reach deep, deep, down inside your soul, To talk with words, a priceless goal. If you took away the scars I made, If you stole my knives, my razor blade, If you gave me tears and words instead, I'd still have pain inside my head. |
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