Each wound a jagged edge
With which he’d have to live.
Each scar a tale told,
Retold ad infinitum.
Each cut, further proof
Of a life that hurt too much.
But each day lived
A survivor’s tale.
Not living;
Holding on
To jagged edges,
With tired fingers,
A blade,
And a fistful of hope.

Daily poem #855

This entry was posted in depression, Mental Health, Recovery, self-harm and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Surviving

  1. Lori Carlson says:

    Reblogged this on A Whispered Wind and commented:
    powerful and raw imagery! A MUST read!
    Comments are disabled. Please visit Pooky’s blog to comment. Thanks!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Yu/stan/kema says:

    Very good poem, Pooky

    Liked by 2 people

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