Scabs
then scars.
No explanations.
I scraped myself,
fell on a rock.
Watch their faces
change in shock.
I know that you know
so why try to hide?
But I just can’t explain
what goes on inside.
Because you didn’t see
the cuts glistening red.
Watch the blade rest harmlessly
as I bled.
So please don’t say
you understand
if you’ve never picked up
that blade with your hand.
Don’t tell me you feel me
Realize and recognize
the pain inside me when
I didn’t specify.
But even if you did make that choice
once upon a time
I think
I think
I think
I’ve crossed a line
from which I can’t come back
Maybe I’ll see my friends again
all dressed in black.
It's an old poem that I wrote when I used to feel this way. If anyone reading this does this to themselves please GET HELP. I regret not making that choice more than anything in my life.