Why Cut?
Who do you cut, he asks,
And how can I help?
Really wanting to know – to help,
Not just a question to shame me.
I cut to feel alive.
Within an empty soul
no part of me feels
Until the razor carves a straight path.
I cut to honor the child.
She, who absorbed so much,
Received so little joy.
I am now one with her pain.
I cut out of anger.
How dare they use me
As a vessel for their perversions
As a sex toy to discard!
I cut to remember.
Never forget the abusers
Who tore into our body
Producing trickles of blood.
I cut to emerge from dissociation.
When I become lost
Within my many houses
I need help in coming back to reality.
I cut to attract attention.
Outweighing my sense of shame
Is the need to cry out and say
Look! I’m hurting! Please help!
How can you help?
Be patient with me.
I’ve been a cutter
Almost half a century.
It won’t magically stop tomorrow.
How can you help?
Honor my pain.
Honor my grief.
Honor my anger.
Honor my memories.
How can you help?
Talk about it openly
With true understanding
With no disgust
With no anger.
How can you help?
Do not turn from me
When you feel helpless.
Do not discard me
As a hopeless case.
Why do I cut?
To say
What I cannot put in words.
To show
The depth of my anguish.
Paula Hurwitz
Taken from The Cutting Edge archives