Beauty from Pain: Poetry of Brokenness

The Crimson Strand

warning: mentions cutting. for some people even just reading about it can cause them to think about it, and possible do it. if you are one of these people, STOP NOW. Do not read this poem. Thanks

Crimson String

I fell to the ground
And lamented my life
I had let so many down
I would tell them with a knife

I still remember how
The metal looked on flesh
I don’t understand it now
How I thought death was best

I know on that night
When my blood fell
I lost the fight
They rung the final bell

The psychiatric ward
Or hell as I thought
I turned to the Lord
As battles I fought

Two years of the same
Fighting and giving in
It was kind of a game
Who would win?

Two years from the first
Time metal touched skin
My heart nearly burst
The battle would end

These stories I tell
Numerous as sand
Are held together well
By the crimson strand

See Jesus he died
On Calvary’s hill
The whole world sighed
When he paid our bill

Freedom at last
From hurt and from pain
Sin he has cast
Sin he has slain


this one is kind of a life story i wrote around the third time i was hospitalised in September of 2004, i think. i know it was fall 2004 though.

posted by Angela @ 8/30/2006 10:27:00 PM