i was an addict at twelve
but it wasn’t a needle that i shoved
up and under my fragile preteen skin
pushing the euphoria in with a single movement

it was a blade that i
pulled across my ****** flesh
splitting the threads that so skillfully
held me all together

it didn’t hurt the first time
boy oh boy did it bleed
through a *** of toilet paper and a washcloth
it was like a period that i could control

and that’s what got me hooked
the pain that i could control
when my life was going down the rabbit hole
i just wanted to feel in control again

i’ve been in therapy since before
i took the scissors to my wrist
had a suicide scare in sixth grade
though back then i didn’t know what suicide meant

i was just a messed up
kid sitting in the counselors office
abused converse scuffing the floor
i poured out my heart to her

it didn’t help the first time
the second went by in a blur
only three appointments
maybe less but he was nice and had kind eyes

i used a variety of instruments
playing the strings of my skin
back and forth with the blade
back and forth

scars layered upon more sloppy scars
my left arm and wrist and shoulder
though that came later when i thought i was being sneaky
were a battle field

it lasted for four ******* years
four long years that nearly killed me
i still wear layers because the paranoia never left
and i still don’t feel beautiful without that familiar stinging