Acting on impulse,
reaching for my lifeline,
my nicotine.
How I crave it so.
I beg it to bite me,
harder and deeper than ever before.
to feel it breaking through my pale skin,
the warmth of blood rising though the gap.
To watch as it gathers at the surface then elegantly flows down the length of my arm.
waiting for the beats from my heart to increase in speed,
that feeling where everything seems to light and weightless.
How I just long to feel again.
I hunger for the crimson drops.
The sharp sting followed by the cool rush.
I will, because I have to.
I do because I have to.
I cry because I have to.
And I will do it again and again because I have to.

Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008

We Who Bleed.

We Who Bleed

We are those who chose a road less taken.
We are those whom appear to be normal,
yet are labeled "deeply troubled and emotionally unstable"
We come from different backgrounds and different pasts,
yet we all share one thing, one secret.
We all suffer from pain and sadness.
We all fall back upon it's glistening, smooth, savior-like self.
We run to it, we beg it to release us form our bonds.
We rely on this lancinating pain, to save us from the unknown.
Outside we smile and laugh, inside we scream and cry.
You can't see it, you can't read us.
We mask ourselves, so no one sees our vulnerability.
No one can know.
We are grouped and placed where you want us to be,
given names and branded like cattle.
"Emo kid!" they say "stay away, their crazy and only want attention!"
Is this who we are?
Pushed aside and mocked.
Hence why no one can know.
We are the ones who create our own paths.
We mark our-selves to feel alive.
We are not bad people,
we are not sick people.
We are people like you, just with other ways to discard our pain and frustrations.
We don't want attention, we want freedom.
We want help and someone to lean on.
We are prisoners of ourselves.
We are people, we are humans,
and we shall stand strong together,
break free from our chains, and step forth into the light,
out of the suffocating darkness, together.
You just have to believe,
we all have a heart that beats like yours.
We can be free,
We just have to believe...

Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008

Slenderize

The slender, flawless surface,
no bumps or protrusions,
just the flat, thin, stomach.
The so desired look, which I wish to embody.
Oh how I long to be trim and skinny.
Just to have a filamentous midsection,
perhaps then I would feel much more confident.
There are ways, many ways in fact,
but for me I see one,
I don't know if I can do it, it shall be a challenge,
one I am willing to attempt.
So far it's proven to be quite difficult,
I like to indulge in food, so to cut it off is rather hard.
I am sure I can do it, I just need to first strengthen my will power, that's all.
I hear you can get slim fast being anorexic.
I suppose it's worth a shot, right?
Yes, this is what I shall do,
the slender, smooth, and utterly fat less,
this is what I want to be.
This is what I will be.

Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008

Consumed

Clouds fog my vision
the distorted image of the world is all I can see,
or perhaps this is what it looks like,
I can no longer tell.
I feel as though I have been consumed by the negative thoughts which plague my mind.
It's as though the very blood which courses through my body, is boiling and burning my veins.
It feels like at any moment it will burn right through my pale, weak flesh.
I need to free it.
Fear of loosing what I know, looms above me.
I tread softly as to not provoke the unknown.
I fear my frail and vulnerable heart is cracking,
it seems it may give way under this immense pressure.
It burns.
It crawls and itches.
I need to free it.
This anxiety that has seemed to call my mind home.
Burrowed deep into the nooks and cranny's of my brain.
Latching on tightly never to be removed?
Why has this come back?
How did it find me again?
I fled from it's rule, I broke it's bonds and dashed into the light.
How can it be, that it has come for me once more.
Its scratching and tearing away at me.
your trying to help, yet you don't know how.
I need you, but I need to release this tension as well.
This is the only way I know how.
I need to free it.
Stay here with me,
don't leave me alone, I need you.
Help give me strength to defeat this darkness.
Help me please...

Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008

I feel as though these thoughts of self-disdain have lingered here with me
for as long as I can remember.
Even when I was little I hated certain things about myself.
I can distinctly remember how I perceived myself to be.
I can remember when I was about four or five,
I used to hate the way I dressed, and the way people treated me like I was a baby.
I can remember throwing myself down the stairs which lead to my unfinished basement,
just to see how badly it would hurt me.
I remember feeling very awake and energetic after I did this.
As I continued to grow I can remember being the kid who didn't have the cool toys, or the kid everyone deemed the "side-kick"
I was always the secondary character in games at school. Only when it was just my closest friend and I, was I ever a main character.
In grade two I remember being the "new kid"
and oh how I was over joyed.
"New Kid" was my name for quite some time. I got left out and pushed behind everyone else.
I used to get picked on for the brown splotches on my front teeth, even though it was a medical condition. I have never really been in shape, so running has never been my strong suit. We used to play huge games of cops and robbers which included almost every grade. I can distinctly remember this boy say when I was "IT", "oh it's ok Morgan's it, no one has to run!" I remember feeling so stupid and horrid, I ran away and shouted I didn't want to play any more.

As I reached grade six and on into middle school, I began to think about my appearance and how others must view me. I have always had tremendously thick, bushy hair. I think thats the one, if not the only thing people remember about me from elementary school. On the day of my grade six graduation my mom brushed my hair [which made it really poofy] and only braided a tiny section on each side. Since my hair was quite thick the braids were as well. I felt ridiculous. I can remember thinking of how people were going to laugh at me and I hated myself.

Once I reached grade seven I began to feel very self conscious. I used to only bring apple sauce to school for lunch. [mostly because I was to lazy to make a lunch] and I would occasionally trade them for a tuna sandwich. I tried to fix my hair but it never felt right. I wasn't allowed to wear makeup and I got teased once because I didn't shave my legs. I used to be the target of people's jokes, whether is was intentional or just because I was there. It always used to make me feel alone and singled out. I was never very smart and I think one of the things that have followed me from my very first day of school, is my inability to get good marks. All through out school I got average marks, at times I would get superb marks and be very proud of myself.
I think I only ever got two A's on my report cards. My teacher would always say "Oh if only Morgan would try harder" or "Morgan talks to much, and does not participate in class" Over and over and over I heard these exact comments from all of my teachers, even now. I don't know why I don't "Try harder" it's as if I don't have any drive or inspiration to do so. Marks have always been one of the things I hate most about myself, my weight as well. I have always been the heavier kid. Or at least I believe I have been. I was always quite "pudgy", if you will. I have always had a hard time with my image. I am alway either to fat or to out of shape. I don't know how to wear makeup and I can't do anything with my hair. I have no sense of style, what so ever, and well I don't really know how to accessorise my outfits. I suppose there really isn't one thing I dislike the most. I suppose my weight and my dumbness.

But yes, I guess I just won't change, and I fear that my inability to change and grow will cost me allot. Perhaps it may also keep me from obtaining my goal of University. Of course I don't really have high hopes for that because I have learned that hoping for things often leaves you in the dark.

"And what have I ever suffered. not one damn thing. No poetic privations or romantic diseases."
- Caroline Kettlewell [Skin Game]

This very line is rather close to how I feel.
When people confront you and ask you
"But why do you do that to yourself?"
There is really no good answer to give them, you tell them why you think you do it and they act as though they believe you, and they tell you some sort of sugary complement that makes your stomach churn and your legs feel weak.
It puts thoughts in your mind that make you second guess all you believe in.
This is why I prefer not to tell them.
I do at times, wish for people to know what I do. Sometimes perhaps even feel sorry for me,
but then I know that is the thing I do not wish to become.
I don't do it for attention.
When I see my friends and people who don't know, I think to myself;
"You think I'm so normal, you like me now, but if you knew what I do, you'd leave and run far away from me"
The sad reality of this addiction is that as soon as you start it's with you forever. It won't go away.
You must think I am obsessed with this.
Well I suppose in a way I am, but I use this blog as a way to relieve stress and anxiety. So think what you want, but if it really makes you think those things then don't come here. Besides most of you who read this know what you are getting into...

I think when people find out what I do they are really surprised by it. The look of shock runs briefly across their face, followed by a gasp of air.

Fuck sometimes I wish I could just leave all this stress and pressure behind me, fuck I can't do this, I am so behind in school, each time I try to do the massive essays and assignments my brain freezes and I can;t function, I hate myself for that. Why can't I just be able to do them? WHY THE FUCK AM I SO STUPID!?
WHY WHY!?
why does it have to be hard!?
I mean why have I always been the stupid one, the one who has to "try harder" or "can do better"?
I really hate myself sometimes. It's not fair, I am so challenged.
Sometimes I want to just disappear.
In grade ten I wanted to commit suicide, but it's apparent I didn't.
Sometimes I still want to, but I do have a few factors holding me back.
One being my love, I care for him so much more then I could ever care for myself.
Another being my sister, I would never want to hurt her or scar her.
but I think thats about it really.
Which I suppose sounds rather dreary.
It's not as though I walk around with a somber expression on my face, many people think I am just fine, the happy, giddy, crazy, over social Morgan.
I suppose I still am, but I feel as though I am looking at myself, the self I once was.
sometimes I feel as though I am watching myself.
I fear I am loosing myself, as though I am being torn apart by every little thing.

Running.

Running through dead fields,
passing trees and fences,
running, panting.
Can't stop, won't stop.
running with a heavy heart,
lungs screaming for mercy.
Keep running, don't stop.
Stop and die, stop and die.
Stop and there you shall stay for eternity,
elected into an early grave.
It's always easier to run,
it's always easier to run.

Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008

These Four Walls

Four walls create the barrier
I seclude myself in.
These four walls,
should they ever break,
shall cause the end of me.

I find it odd that I don't feel what or how I "apparently" should.
Statistics show that they who intentionally mutilate themselves
do it for a few reasons.
One being because they feel numb or dead, and they need to feel they are alive.
Some do it because they have a past with sexual and or physical abuse either from parents, siblings, and/or guardians.
Then there are reasons like mine,
feeling stupid or useless, left out, or feeling as though you need to be punished.
Another reason is an inability to deal with excessive amounts of stress or pressure,
and having poor self-esteem.

These four walls,
which hide me from the pain,
cannot crack and chip,
they are to strong for that,
or at least I pray they are.

It makes me feel pathetic,
when I hear about others who SI.
It makes me sad to know that the statistics for teens and adolescents who SI are so high.
I begin to hate myself when I hear of this becoming a new "fad"
I want this to be my thing,
the thing I use.
I don't want to be grouped into a category.
Emo or cutter.
It hurts when I hear people say, "oh they do it for attention"
or "don't talk to them cause they are emo and they scare me"

Four walls so carefully placed,
for the safety of their inhabitant.
Secluded and secure,
calmly within the darkness.

It's been estimated that almost 75% of Americans
practice a form of self-mutilation.[www.healthatoz.com]

This very statistic makes me feel so very, common.
I don't wish to be categorized as a general population of depressed teens...
I don't want to be labeled!
I know no one really knows about me and my problem...
just a few, but as far as they are concerned I am over it.
Some times I want to be,
but then I see those marks and I like them.
Does this make me a sick individual?
I know I needed and deserved them.

Four walls
of great escape,
no way in, trapped beneath
their layers of thoughts.

I know I am not the first to cut my skin,
and I know I am not the last.
So I suppose it's selfish of me to wish to be the only one.
Does it make me a bad person?
I understand it hurts others when I SI but,
I don't intend it to?!
I sometimes wish I could hide it form my love,
but he will see them any way.
It hurts more knowing that his previous girlfriend did this,
and now I am doing it.
It must make him feel as though he is cursed
with psycho girls with deep emotional issues.

These four walls,
which stand guard against pain and sadness,
often leave me feeling empty inside,
as though my insides are being devoured.

It all started because of me.
The night before I committed my first act of mutilation,
I was at my closets friend's house.
It was a warm July night, and her parents weren't home.
She decided she would have a party.
Being the person I am I decided to go, not to mention she is my closest friend.
So everything was fine for the first part,
we were drinking, and laughing,
playing music and dancing around like lunatics.
After we had finished drinking, we decided to all go out side.
knowing that we were over drinking, we all just turned a blind eye.
This was my first mistake.

Four strong walls,
yet how strong are they?
Could one little crack,
bring them all crashing down?

For some reason my friend and I separated,
[I believe she left me for a boy...]
So I was stranded with this guy she knows from work.
Mistake number two occurred when this guy and I started to walk.
After wandering the streets we ended up at the school across form my friend's house.
still drunk out of my mind, and barely able to stand,
this guy asked if he could kiss me,
not thinking or doing much of anything,
he got on top of me and started to kiss my lips.

Can four mental walls,
be torn down,
by the acts and decisions
of the one who lives within?

The next day,
almost dieing with guilt I called my love and told him the story.
I could hear the pain in his voice as he asked me questions.
We didn't talk much after that.
I felt so guilty and so depressed, nothing functioned.
I stayed curled up on my bed, buried beneath layers and layers of blankets.
I cried for hours and hours on end,
the tears were never ending.
I knew it was all my fault and I knew I had to pay for it,
all that would run through my mind was the thoughts of us breaking up.
My pencil case as laying next to me
and concealed deep inside was a small yet sharp EXACTO knife.
I grabbed it and slowly drew it across my skin,
making sure it would draw blood.
I did this precisely eight times,
one for each month we had been together.
It made me feel so light and alive.
I knew I deserved them, i knew i needed them.
"Stupid, dumb, fucking ugly whore!"
I yelled these to myself as I cut away at my skin.

At the time I needed them,
at the time the were necessary,
but now I don;t know why I continue to do it.
Now I fear it has become the addiction I heard about.
Now I fear it will go to far and push away all I need, all I love,
all that I live for...

These four walls
in which I place such great faith in,
shan't fall with out the will of their inhabitant
and when that time comes,
for these walls to crumble around me,
I will have moved on from this place,
and stepped foot into the place I once was.

Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008

Mistake ridden,
dumb, and untalented.
big hearted, yet foolish.
soft-witted and dull.
confused and brainless.
complete f a i l u r e.

such words can cause great pain,
such words used to scorn and spite.
Such words describe me best.

Despite hardest I try,
I never get any where.
Whether it be marks or general tasks.
I try to work heavily on my image as well,
yet, it seems nothing has changed.
You all can still laugh and joke,
at times it can be funny, but sometimes it really hurts.
I want to go far in life,
but how can I do that,
when I can't even picture my self physically being there in the first place?
I have the only thing I have ever wanted,
I could never ask for anything better,
yet I still seem to some how mishandle that as well.

I guess turning to this habit,
helps me to prove to myself that I am useless.
I suppose that this in a way can help m be a better person,
for in reality each time I fail,
I use it, then I feel better, and for some reason ,
I feel slightly motivated to do better,
so I won't suffer form the pain.
Though, this doesn't really work all that well,
so really it's not doing anything.

Thus in conclusion,
I don;t know what I should do.
I suppose I shall just remain here waiting to see how things go...

[not really a poem more of a rant..]

Eloping

The rush you feel
when you relieve yourself of all that pent up pain,
oh how I long to feel it once more.
It's been so long since you and I have eloped together.
Down the halls of this broken old building,
past the classes and lockers,
teachers and hard working students,
quietly shuffling towards the washroom.
Yes to that last stall,
with the deep purple door.
Oh it has been to long.
I wish to rush into it with you in hand,
sit on the floor,
and let you kiss my arms and legs.
Over and over,
the sweet pain of your love,
sends shivers crawling down my spine.
You feel cold on my skin, but I like it,
you are my ecstasy, my pain-killer.
I wanted to leave you, but I think I need you to much,
yes yes, I need you to survive here.
Lets come together again,
your slender blade on my soft skin,
help me relieve this immense pain,
which builds and crawls under my skin,
leave your marks of love upon my body,
so I can look at them and feel alive.
Yes, let us elope once more,
to that last washroom stall...

Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008