getting ready in the morning i see the scars on my thighs
from the days in high school where my life was falling apart
and my skin was my outlet.

the scars are a milk white now, interesting as i'm already quite pale
running my hand over them i can feel the indentation from
where the blade sank in.

i remember the nights where i'd be crying and listening to some
kind of edgy, angsty band and how numb i felt as the
blade swam over my skin.

how good it felt, to have something real that i could validate and
how interesting it is that i no longer crave that pain
instead all i seek is admiration.