Sinking Seasons

I began to write a poem and this is where it led me. I need to put a trigger warning on this, but only on the last verse. It is taken from my own experience; but to make this post a worthwhile one, I’ll tell you that I am now clean, and bar one tiny slip (not a full one at that), I have been so for over a year and a half, if not more, because I’m not even sure when I stopped.

If you are struggling with self-harm or ever thinking of doing it: you are not alone. And I don’t mean that others self-harm, because that shouldn’t happen or exist either. I mean that you have people around you who love you and care for you, and that that overwhelming relief that you will get, will be gone in an instance, last less each time, and become a desperate need that will never be fulfilled. And I promise, YOU ARE WORTH SO MUCH MORE. You are beautiful and strong, really powerfully strong. And you can do anything: (but self-harm because I won’t allow it!)

Sinking Seasons:

When ice forms on the stark brass fence,

She watches contently; free and not tense,

It would be blissfully unnecessary; for this is the season she loves,

With scarves and leg warmers and thick woolly gloves.

As Spring rolls around she is waiting with intent,

For this is the season that marks her descent,

As stresses amount but are then briskly taken away,

When tempers and schedules continue to fray.

Soon Summer creeps up and the schools take their breaks,

A glistening, cheery smile: one that she fakes,

She stays indoors and hides behind glass, hazed

Staring longingly, hands clasped, eyes dazed.

And in comes Winter, just as last year,

Where ice is on the wrists, stopping bleeding: desperate fear.

This is the season she has begun to long for as a growing need,

That hides her self-harming, in short days:

this is where her problems breed.