A slice of the old me

it's hard to complain when i know only an ounce, an eighth, less than one out of an ion
of what is going on outside
outside my house, my town, my state
my state of mind
changes in time
in and out up and down
new days bring new waves
trust
i don't
trust myself, my mind, my choices of time
i can't wait to be on my own
making sacrifices and getting hurt
pain is only something i've felt from loss
loss of love, or lust, or whatever the fuck i thought i felt
i look back and i respect what i thought i felt
but i know in a week, a month, i might feel it again
and it might slip away
might slide down
like the blood
over to the left
dripping off my thigh
down my freshly shaven eleven year old skin and six years later
soft and innocent without much more knowledge than an infant
in comparison to the future
and others i don't know
what could have been so bad?
and i don't know, until the next time
i creep into the kitchen, still having the nerve to pray
pray that i don't wake up my mother, or my father
and grab a knife
big? or small? small this time.
no, big.
i want to see the huge metal shimmer
lights on? no lights off.
lights on. i fucking deserve to see it
i want to see it
i fucking need to see it
isn't that why i do it?
to see, to feel, to know
i can cause the pain physically, that they cause mentally
i can be one up
one up? how fucked up.
what does it do
to cause the pain on my leg, my wrist, my ankle, my hip
that you cause in my heart
it does something when it happens
and when its done
relief. it causes
me to know that i am capable
of making choices
and whether they're right
and whether they're wrong
when i'm in the shower
the stinging, reminds me
that i can learn from each wound.
mentally, physically, i know that each day i can do over
what i fucked up yesterday
or try to
and i have yet to learn what it really is
to be hurt
because my casualties
are minute
and so embarrassing
that i hope no one ever knows why i drag that cold steel across my skin
because it would just rip out my soul
if i knew they knew.

Wow, this is a really meaningful poem. I’m quite touched by it. I’m a ‘recovered’ self-injurer, so this is actually a subject that means a lot to me. Just the fact that this poem didn’t piss me off shows you’ve done something right – it’s such a hard subject to get your head around and that makes it so hard to get right. There are a few changes I would make to it though, just to make it more concise. Oh and your capitals are messed up! That's not really a bit deal but eh...I'd like it better if they were all normal and right.I like your layout for this poem though, I've always loved free verse much more than rhyming rhythmic poems, just for the originality.

This is a great poem =] yes. I've made some suggestions and stuff... I hope you don't take this as too much critisism, because I really so like this poem, I just of some ways I thought it could be a even better ^^

it's hard to complain when i know only an ounce, an eighth, less than one out of an ion
This is a really, really long first line. It's free verse so it's not like you have to have them all the same length, but I think this is a bit too long. I don't understand what "less than one out of an ion means, really.

of what is going on outside
outside my house, my town, my state
my state of mind
changes in time
in and out up and down
new days bring new waves
I love this part, the connection between state and state of mind and the line "new days bring new waves", it just sounds really good. Smooth and lovely and not in a forced, over controlled way.

trust
i don't
trust myself, my mind, my choices of time
i can't wait to be on my own
making sacrifices and getting hurt
Why did you give up using capitals for your "i"s?
I think this part is a bit choppy. I like one line-lines, they're alright, but think if you moved "trust myself" up with "I don't" it'd move easier here.

pain is only something i've felt from loss
loss of love, or lust, or whatever the fuck i thought i felt
i look back and i respect what i thought i felt
but i know in a week, a month, i might feel it again
You kind of repeated "what I thought I felt" two times, it's a bit awkward. I think it'd be better if you made it
"pain in something I've felt from loss
loss of love, or lust, I can look back and
respect whatever the fuck I thought I felt"
or something like that =] I love the last line though. I know that feeling.

and it might slip away
might slide down
like the blood
over to the left
dripping off my thigh
The over to the left line is a bit obscure and weird. I don't really like it...

down my freshly shaven eleven year old skin and six years later
soft and innocent without much more knowledge than an infant
in comparison to the future
and others i don't know
what could have been so bad?
and i don't know, until the next time
This bit confused me a bit. I love "down my freshly shaven eleven year old skin" but "and six years later" is a bit of an odd continuation, I was confused by it. The last three lines here are even more confusing - I feel like I've missed something important. Could you make it a bit clearer what exactly you mean?

i creep into the kitchen, still having the nerve to pray
pray that i don't wake up my mother, or my father
and grab a knife
big? or small? small this time.
no, big.
i want to see the huge metal shimmer
lights on? no lights off.
lights on. i fucking deserve to see it
i want to see it
i fucking need to see it
isn't that why i do it?
to see, to feel, to know
i can cause the pain physically, that they cause mentally
i can be one up
one up? how fucked up.
This could easily start as a new stanza, just to split the poem up a little bit, make it more streamlined. You need to fix the "i"s again =] I'm not sure about all the questions. The line "no, big" is a bit out of place, like you're just rambling on, it's not very poetic. This is sort of a weird part, I'm not sure I like it very much. It's a bit like you're stating the obvious. It's not that it's bad, it's just not as lovely as the rest of it.

what does it do
to cause the pain on my leg, my wrist, my ankle, my hip
that you cause in my heart
it does something when it happens
and when its done
relief. it causes
me to know that i am capable
of making choices
I like this part a lot. You didn't have a capital of "it" after the full stop. That's all I have to say here *shock!*

and whether they're right
and whether they're wrong
when i'm in the shower
the stinging, reminds me
that i can learn from each wound.
mentally, physically, i know that each day i can do over
what i fucked up yesterday
or try to
I don't like the "or try to" like, it's a bit tacked on the end.

and i have yet to learn what it really is
to be hurt
because my casualties
are minute
and so embarrassing
that i hope no one ever knows why i drag that cold steel across my skin
because it would just rip out my soul
if i knew they knew.
rip out my soul is a little bit cliche I think, but otherwise I love this ending, it's wonderful.