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E - Everyone


by Via

Beginning to end

Is either slow and painful

Or fast and painful

But the end is always pain.

It's my fault, really.

He asked to be let it

And I showed him my scars,

The places I was stabbed,

How badly they've healed.

It was a road map for him-

Not of detours,

But of destinations.

So slowly he touched each one,

Running a finger over their jagged edges.

I didn't even notice

When he slid is own blades into them-

I had never stopped bleeding to begin with.

It wasn't until I was bleeding out

From new punctures I didn't have before

That I became impossibly aware.

She was different,

She was fast.

It was my fault, really.

I showed her my weak points,

Still bloody, some still with knives in them.

"I can't take another one."

I have never had someone

Fight so hard

To pull them out one by one

Against my will

Just to find my absolute weakest point

And hit me there instead.

She made promises I didn't ask for,

Pushed until I trusted them.

It was all of five months,

And a lifetime of being hurt.

It was my fault, really.

Is this a review?



User avatar
49 Reviews

Points: 251
Reviews: 49

Mon Sep 11, 2023 6:31 am
dragonight9 wrote a review...

Wow, ouch. This hit me in the feels.

I totally relate to making everything my fault and blaming myself for the misdeeds of others.

Thinking about it now we must be pretty arrogant to believe we have enough control over others that we think it is our fault when they treat us badly. To believe that showing them our vulnerabilities somehow caused their actions.

Even so, it takes great courage to show a wound to someone. Or a desperate need for attention/affection. Hopefully as maturity and healing occur the later explanation will become less of a factor.

Sorry for going on a tangent there. I often find writers express their own struggles and unanswered questions in their stories (I know I do). So, back to the analysis of your story.

Overall it was great although it didn't have the rhyme scheme that I associate with poems if that's what you were going for.

The story was well told and emotional while also being descriptive which was great. I liked your repeated use of the "It was my fault, really." line. That made it feel more like a poem for me.

I think there was a spelling mistake in this line "When he slid is own blades into them"
I think you meant to put "he slid his" instead of "he slid is"

I hope this helps. Have a wonderful day ;)

User avatar
140 Reviews

Points: 13980
Reviews: 140

Sun Sep 10, 2023 9:24 pm
OrabellaAvenue wrote a review...

Hiya! This is Orabella, here with a review.

I can't believe how good people on YWS are at making me sad. (not in a bad way) Almost every poem I've read in the last few weeks has just been so meaningful and beautiful that I just want to cry happy tears.

I feel like all the mention of blood makes this work a 12+ instead of E. I'm a squeamish person to begin with, and this did make me squirm a bit, although I think it was metaphorical blood. (Is it? I wanna make sure)

The last line is powerful, and also incredibly sad. It makes the title a perfect fit, and also makes the reader want to cry some more. (Or at least me) And it repeats what has been said before. This person is talking about things that have been done to them - and now they're saying it was their own fault? How is it your fault if someone stabs you?!

And I showed him my scars,

The places I was stabbed,

How badly they've healed.

This is as if the character is opening up, right? Opening up about their feelings and the things that have happened to them. The things they feel and hoping he can understand. And then he hurt the MC with that information, and created even more wounds, even more scars.

It was a road map for him-

Not of detours,

But of destinations.

This is the perfect metaphor, but also incredibly sad and horrible. I just love this metaphor so much I can't tell you how much it just fits here so perfectly and it's amazing and...

I simply adored this poem. Please keep writing; it's truly so amazing and so wonderful.


There is no quiet. There is only Doc McStuffins.
— Ron Swanson