I almost never look at them anymore
The scars left behind
White lines
And Dashes
Across my left wrist
One from when my cat scratched me
One from the first time I coped with a blade
One from before I knew how to hide them
I almost never look
But they’re still there, and they look at me
And sometimes, 8 years later
I get so unstable
I want to pick up the scissors
I want to see the pain taking form
So that I don’t have to hold it in
Anymore, but
I don’t because I feel like
It would create a burden on you that
I’m not willing to place and
Because I know I’m stronger than the scissor blades
And because
I like to wear sleeveless shirts even in the winter