Mental States & Perfection

Self-Mutilation

The art of it

Art is a outlet for many sufferers. It is a way of expression. It expresses the confusion, pain, loneliness, despair, and the other emotions they can't even put into words. The field of psychology has developed a field that uses this art as therapy.

Poetry                                                       Paintings

A Lonely Cry                                                                                                      7 Pains


A helpless tear forms a forsaken sea
I have abandoned my faith, and my will
Stranded in the middle of the waters looking for a way to get out

I've got my feet up off the ground hoping for a new step
I'm trying to open my eyes so the light will be seen...
I am waiting

My life feels of derelict content
Grieving for the innocence I once knew
Tired of being patient
I want to run, I need to run...
I am too exhausted                                                                                                                                   (Author listed as): Erase_Me

Cutting at the problem
Making the pain slow my aching tears
Giving me the air to breathe
Deserted soul, scarred for life                                                                                 Bathroom
Mourning over all the mistakes....

I am bleeding

Pressure building up, hard to breathe
Keeping my eyes focused on what is real
I can't tell the difference
Give my faith back! I want my own will!...
I am desperate
 

By: Alex

As the Blood Runs Down


The silver object in my hand,
Glitters like the moon in its reflection on the water.
The twin blades of the razor beckons for the wound,
I have but no choice.
As the blood runs down my arm,                                                                                                                 ~Sarah Michelle
The razor slips from my grasp.
Red covers the floor in splatters,
And it covers my clothes.
Blood smears on my hands
As they struggle to cover the first wound.                                                          I cut
Finally done and blood stained.

Once, twice, three is too much.

Blood stains my skin,
And now it is no longer washable.
As I fall into emptiness,
I feel it is life
For life is death.
I dream as if in sleep,
But it's only unconsciousness,
Which knocks near death's door,
As I'm rushed to the emergency room.
 

By: Sara R.

Bleed

There are those that bleed
There are those that smile
There are those that laugh                                                                                                             ~Finch
There are those that see
                                                                                    
There are those that use
There are those that hurt
There are those that become
There are those that make
There are those that cause
There are those that don't know
There are those that do know
There are those that don't want to know
There are those that cry
There are those that hide
Bleeding and crying
Smiling and hiding
Laughing and using
Seeing and not knowing
Hurting and knowing
Not knowing and making
Becoming because
There are those that pray                                                                                                                     ~Kate
 

By: Joel King

 

 

To view more art work visit these sites: Gallery of Pain, PhotoBucket

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Psychology and Ethics

Self-Mutilation    Eating Disorders    Sexuality    Emotions    Suffering

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