What if?
What if
I told someone?
What if
they hate me for it?
What if
What if
I stop doing this to my body?
What if
you stop liking me?
What if
I stop and you leave me?
What if
What if
you hate me if you know?
What if
I didn’t tell anyone?
What if
then nothing changes?
What if
if I tell you?
What if
you worry?
What if
you think I’m a burden
What if
What if
What if
What if
What if
What if
What if  
I

stop


and



you




leave





me?

For my 11th birthday I bought myself the prettiest gift.
A paintbrush.
It was a shiny silver.
When I used it for the first time, I felt relieved.
The burdens fell off my shoulders onto my wrists.
I created the most beautiful crimson artworks.
I packed my burdens into fine lines, drawing the red of their weight.
I am an artist.
I am covered in my creations, from my wrists to my thighs.
Now, forever.

The showers after
Always hit different
The skin and cuts sting
Lose my soul
While blood falls down the drain
The next 15 minutes always hit different...
Red liquid flowing and gushing out of my cuts
Cuts

        Cut

                  Cu
                        
                                C

It almost stings
As much as your words
Soap
Wash my mouth with soap
Said too much
Told you too much
Said everything wrong
I can't do anything right
Rub salt to my wounds
Please

i don't understand
i just don't understand
why every single time
i cover it with a sleeve or cargo pants
and tell myself
"that was the last time, i'm going to stop doing this."
but its happened so many times
i know it's a lie