If I sat down beside

If I sat down beside you would you be mad?

It seems everything I do dissapoints you.

I don't mean to make you cry, I don't mean to make you sad.

But every litte thing I do, dissapoints you.


My shoulders burn with the cuts my broken razor inflicts on me,

Every day I check your wrists, never accounting for the angry red lines I hide myself.

You are like a caged bird, longing to be free.

I am an antique doll, losing all hope of ever coming off the shelf.


Does the boy know how it is not you but I he should be worried for?

Dutifully he checks your body for angry red lines that mare snow white skin,

Yet it is my body on which scars appear more and more.

I feel sick, like everything I do is an unspeakable sin. 


You pour your problems upon me,

never once stopping to ask of my own.

You toss me aside when I am not needed,

and seat yourself on a golden throne.


The scars burn on my shoulders like lines of raging fire ants,

as I listen to your latest never ending rant.

This poem is about: 
My community


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