Numbers: A poem

Joshua Jordan/Senior Staff

Content warning: self-harm

One, two,

Another slash.

Three, four,

Plates crash.

Five, six,

Take a fall.

Seven, eight,

Try to crawl.

Nine, ten,

An angel smiles bright.


You lash out in fright.


Count the numbers, count again.

Pick up the blocks, zero to ten.

Start all over, bandage yourself.

Place the silver back on the shelf.

Close the door, don’t want peeking.

Only freedom that you’re seeking.

Tidy the room, clean up the shards.

Knees shaking, was that so hard?

Take a chance, roll the dice.

Can’t play the game once, play it twice.


One, two,

A drawn out cry.

Three, four,

Want to fly?

Five, six,

Wings are sprouting.

Seven, eight,

Pressure’s mounting.

Nine, ten,

Take the leap,


Crash one broken heap.


Get up and stand, don’t be weak.

Lines on your wrist, what a freak.

Playing it twice just isn’t enough.

No more thrill, got to get rough.

A roll of bandages, almost gone.

And if that’s gone, even more fun.

Angels are singing, singing your name.

Aren’t you glad to have some fame?

Take a chance, roll the dice.

Stop doubting yourself, let’s play it thrice.

Contact Candace Chiang at [email protected] and follow her on Twitter at @candace_chiang.

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