February 28th marks the day
That I am, miraculously, a year clean-
Clean from the monstrosity known as
self harm
The blood has long since dried, wiped away by time
The scars are there, but old, the stories that have long since been told-
engraved in flesh, have healed
The pages of that painful novel are now faded, but the reminder is still clear
But, I fold
My cards are on the table now- pure honesty
The blades have been tossed
out into the sea
However
Even though I'm clean of this
I would not say, that I am free
The struggle
Temptation
Torment
What else could set me free?
But I know,
The very thing that frees me
Is the very thing that binds me
And leaves a bloody stain called addiction
Not just on my wrists or hips
But inside my frame
My mind is not the same