Self Harm Poems

Self harm poems are written expressions that talk about the emotions, struggles, and pain someone feels. Self-harm is a serious issue, and these poems reflect the poet’s personal experiences or observations.

It is a way for individuals to communicate their pain and seek understanding from others.  Some poets use self harm poems to raise awareness about mental health issues and advocate for support and understanding.

It allows them to process their emotions and gain a sense of control over their struggles, even if only on paper. It’s a form of reaching out and asking for empathy and support.

Self harm poems

Let’s read some self harm poems.

Myself and I

I look in the mirror and it tells me dark lies;
It shows me a woman I’ve learnt to despise,
It shows me a woman who’s bad through and through,
Who’s wicked and ugly and arrogant too.

It shows me a woman with hate in her eyes,
Who the world will not miss if she curls up and dies,
Who deserves to be cut and be hit black and blue,
Whose intentions are wicked and her actions bad too.

I take a deep breath as I know it’s all lies,
But this woman I hate and myself, we lock eyes;
And the hatred I feel makes me sure that it’s true,
The world’s so confusing when you’re not sure who’s you.

One Day

One day we’ll look back at this time that was hard,
And whilst we’ll be tired and battered and scarred,
We’ll be alive, and the scars will have healed,
And the fact we survived will protect us: a shield.

For once you have fought, and once you have won,
The battle has started, a lifetime begun.
The winning’s not easy, recovery is hard,
But it’s worth it to live life you once thought to discard.

And so we’ll walk on, heads held high, looking back,
Noting how far we’ve come and that we’re on track.
We may falter or pause but we’ll walk on each day,
Living the future for which we once prayed.

That day, it will come, but the present comes first.
It’s hard and it hurts: the first step is the worst.

self harm poems


His arms were a mess,
But he couldn’t care less
As he got out his old blade again.

He had no other way
To manage hard days,
So his arms paid the price yet again.

He hated the way that his body was wrecked,
But he hated himself and had no self-respect,
So he turned to his razor again.

One day things must change,
But he knew he’d feel strange,
But perhaps strange but happier then?

Walk On

She walked and walked
In shoes too small,
That rubbed and chafed
And made her fall.

On she walked,
Despite the pain,
Through wind and snow
Through sun and rain.

She nearly stopped
A thousand times,
When hills looked
Far too steep to climb

Or rivers looked
Too wide to cross
When she felt scared,
Or hurt or lost.

But on she walked,
With focused mind;
She had a better
Life to find.

You Ask Me Why I Cut Myself

You ask me why,
I don’t have the words to tell you.
You ask me why,
But I don’t know myself,
You ask me why,
I wish I had an answer,
You ask me why,
I dodge your ask with stealth.

You want to know
If when I cut, it’s painful,
You want to know
If pain makes me feel good,
You want to know
What made me think to try this,
You want to know
If I feel understood.

I want to tell you
That I feel quite lonely,
I want to tell you
No one understands,
I want to tell you
Nothing else can help me,
I want to tell you
How much I long to hold your hand

But I am quiet
Because I fear you’ll judge me,
I am quiet,
I feel unworthy of your care,
I am quiet,
Because my words now fail me,
I am quiet,
But grateful that you’re there.

Slipping Mask

Each day, she carefully
Placed a mask upon her face
To keep the world out
And her feelings in.
Her terror and panic
Lay perfectly hidden
Behind a serene facade.
But some days,
The mask felt heavy
And it slipped
Giving people a glimpse
Of the chaos beneath.
Each time it slipped
She put it back in place,
But sometimes it slipped too far
And fell
Leaving her face bare
For the world to see.
On those days
The world saw her shame.

Life’s Dance

Some days I want nothing more
Than to dance in the rain
With gay abandon.

To know that I am free
Just to be.

Some days I want nothing more
Than to dance in the arms
Of a lover.

To know that my lover
Wants just me.

Some days I want nothing more
Than to dance whilst I cradle
An infant.

To know that that baby
Needs just me.

Some days I want nothing more
Than be told
The dance steps.

To know that if I dance right
The world will see.

But some days I want nothing more
Than to stop the

I know the world is better
Without me.


I will not hide my scars away
The way you think I should.
Each scar will always tell the story
Of a day I could..
A day I thought I couldn’t bear
To take another breath;
When life felt so unbearable
That I had nothing left.
But I dug deep, found my way through
The one way I knew how,
And after all that fighting
“Hide it”‘s what I’m hearing now.
I will not run, or cover up;
These scars I’ll never hide,
They tell a story; I survived
In that, can’t I feel pride?
And as they fade,
I learn new ways
To heal the hurt within,
But harder days
And battles fought
Stay etched into my skin.
If it makes you feel uncomfortable,
By all means look away
From the scars which show
I fought so hard
To live

Self harm poems

Five tiny scars

I finally admitted to you
What I couldn’t admit to myself.
That weak act of mine you saw through
Forced me to blame something else.

Five tiny scars were all it took
For you to notice what I hid.
Faint white marks all but hooked
Your attention to what I did.

Two were faded, two were jarring
One still undecided.
All my thoughts fighting and warring
Against themselves, all divided.

Five tiny scars that I insisted were nothing
That it was a tiny lapse in judgement.
No fall back, no trigger, just tiring
But you saw the quick adjustment.

Buying bandages and antiseptic creams
Were things you took into account.
You stopped to listen when I screamed
And you didn’t care when I lashed out.

That night that I went a step too far
You tried and tried to stop me.
But I was staring at my scars
And you never watched me leave.

Five tiny scars that only you saw
Made me fall when you held my hand.
Wrapped in gauze, still very raw
But you still got me to stand.

Five tiny scars dragged on too long
In a story I should’ve remembered long ago.
But now I’m alone and you’re long gone
With five tiny scars of which you know.


The glass glistens with red
And the air smells of copper.
Red trickles down my arm,
But I do not fear if it stains my bed.
I thought these ideas had left to die,
But I was so so incredibly mistaken.
I let the bath run as well as the blood;
I don’t ask anyone for help. Who would?

There are times I fall into the thoughts,
And when I wake, I am cut to bone.
I don’t know what occurs when I fall,
But it’s my brain instead of my body that rots.
The scabs form, I pick them away.
They’re ugly and bright and hurt when peeled.
I like the sting, I like the ache
I like it too much; will I survive the day?

My mother and my father, oh I love them so,
And it’d hurt them if they saw the lines
Of red that flowed down my arm.
I have guilty pleasure at the scars I own.
I used to caress them when they were young,
When they still bled, and I would hold them
And weep as I watched them grow.

God, what have I done to Me?
My arms, my legs; hideous things.
The scars, though, my precious babies…
Somehow, they’ll never be ugly.


Pages blur, my mind races;
What the hell is happening?
I look for an exit, an escape,
But there’s only piercing eyes and deformed faces.
Panic. No, stay calm. Don’t fight.
Let it pass, drown everything out
Until there aren’t words, simply sound
And there’s so much dark that it’s blindingly bright.

I look scared, I look tired and sad.
I’m cut and ugly and untamed.
My appearance has no effort, no motive,
But I don’t care; they all feel bad,
They all have pity. I have pity. I hate it with my entire heart.
The stupid looks they give, the thinks they think;
The way they act drives me insane.
Sometimes, I sit, I think, I cry, and I tear my flesh apart.

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Self Harm Poems
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Self Harm Poems
Self harm poems are written expressions that talk about the emotions, struggles, and pain someone feels. Self-harm is a serious issue.
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