90 Days

10 days:
No blade,
no blood.

20 days:
I'm tired,
I'm sad,
I want my blade.

30 days:
I can't have my blade,
I can't put a sharp object on my skin,
am I finally clean?

40 days:
Am I okay? 
Will I ever cut again?
I think I'm okay...

50 days:
Depression is sinking in,
Anxiety attacks at least 3 times each day.
I want my fucking blade!
Why did I throw it away?

60 days:
Shhh...
it's okay,
you can get through this,
you are STRONG.

70 days:
I may be sad,
I may want to cut,
but I won't.

80 days: 
I'm so close, 
I'm doing so well!

90 days:
Here we are
Today is the 90th day
I am proud, but still broken.
Don't worry,
I'll be fixed one day.

It gets better, 
you just have to wait it out.
I know it'll get worse again,
I'll want my blade again,
but I won't get a new one. 
I'm clean.
I am 90 days clean.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741