Most people have scars that run in
perfectly
straight
lines
but
mine
are
hopelessly crooked
because
I hated myself too much
to be that careful
I hacked at the paper-white skin
that was my wrist
and drew
thin
red
lines
that didn't seem to know
where they were going
or even where they wanted to go
Today
when I touch them
the pain is still
so
raw
so
real
I can almost feel the tears
rushing down my face
and onto my arms,
mixing with the blood
trying in vain to heal me
When my arms were open
I didn't see blood
I saw
hurt
hopelessness
fear
insecurity
despair
doubt
pain
hate
anger
The pain is hidden
underneath the layers of skin
that rushed to cover the ones
that I had pierced through
but sometimes
I think
it
might
still
be
there
all the horrific details of my cutting...may be triggering