The h2g2 Poem
Created | Updated Oct 1, 2003
Response
I don't cut my wrists any more
When I want to escape
- when the silent screams are ignored yet again.
No, for me, the answers lie in my carefully
Hoarded stash of painkillers.
Stomach pumps don't leave any scars.
Most see what they want to see
- A strong woman in charge of her life.
They don't look, you see.