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I'm cutting my hair.
My mom thinks it's cute,
But I don't really care.
You touched it so it now means nothing but split ends and bleach in my skull.

I'm cutting my hair;
You're not welcome here.
I hope you hate how it looks and I hope my dad hates it, too;
New season new me is the cliché I chose.

I'm cutting my hair:
I like it more than I ever liked you.
You are dead ends and fine words.
I hope my dust fills your lungs and you long for me;
But I don't care,
I'm cutting my hair.

I'm cutting my hair because it's gross,
More gross than you and your venom kiss.
I'm cutting my hair because it's cute;
I'm cutting my hair because I despise you.

I’m at the sink holding scissors and razors;
I wish they were as sharp as your eye for imperfection.
I look in the mirror,
But I don’t see myself;
I see someone stronger and wiser and better than you.

Can you recognize such a pretty little thing?
Makeup smeared across my lips,
Chunks of blonde missing?
Would you even care if these scissors slip,
Scaring my face and obstructing your view?

Did I ever mean anything to you?

But why do I care?...
I already cut my hair.
It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
forever
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived
It wouldn’t look good on my record
If baby pinched a finger,
He is rolling around in his walker
I shouldn’t allow my attention to linger,
On simple distractions
Like the mobile phone,
A watcher using the internet
Leaves their baby alone.

It would tarnish my reputation
If baby swallowed a penny,
I would be kicked to the curb in a minute flat
And the charges would be many,
So I better pay attention
When baby is under my care,
But I’ve got some games hidden up my sleeve
That would give his parents a scare.
I once knew a boy
Who liked to draw
Beautiful pictures
That nobody saw
He drew by himself
Alone at night
Locked in his bedroom
Out of sight
The pictures where strange
They came with a twist
His pen was a razor
His canvas, his wrist
We lay out at night
Watching the stars
When he lifted his sleeve
And showed me his scars
I wasn't shocked
I knew what to do
So I lifted my sleeve
And said "I draw too."

-n.m.
Poem about self harm in a different prospective.

For Max - baby, I love and miss you dearly... Life's not the same anymore.
I don't want to die
I just need something to make me feel alive.
what I think of with every attempting thought.

— The End —