This is a poem I wrote about my dad:

You always said how you
loved us ever so much.
You always said we'd be protected
As long as we were in your clutch.

So, why when I was
on my knees trying to stop
the flow of red seeping from
my arms, all you did was
Stand and stare and lecture.

In the closet I shall stay,
for if I leave, our love
will lead even farther astray.
So I sit and pray
for things to not disarray
more than they already have.

When the roses were red, and violets blue,
All we needed was us and you.
But roses aren't always red, and violets aren't blue-
Now all I see are wilted flowers fallen askew.

As I slide down the door, tears doing the same on my face,
the yelling from the kitchen getting louder.
I start to shake and cover my ears.

Make it stop

Make it stop.

MAKE IT STOP.

My vision is clouded with red.

I grabbed the tools to distract
from the pain.
I snapped, and so I hacked
away at my arm, once more.

I promise things will improve.
No matter how many others disapprove;
never grab a knife
as I once did,
as I hid-
I know how you felt,
but please,
Just call for help.