I have a red ribbon.
I like my red ribbon.
It’s tied in knots.
I’ve never been good at making bows.
It’s a nice color red.
It’s a pretty ribbon.

It’s my ribbon.
I don’t want to share my ribbon.
My ribbon keeps me safe.
My ribbon says “no don’t do that today.”
I listen to my ribbon.
My ribbon is hidden.
No one else knows it’s there.
But i know.
And my ribbon knows.
And that’s all who needs to know.

Someone might think it’s weird.
That i have my red ribbon.
And that my red ribbon has me.
But as long as i wear short sleeves no one should see.
My red ribbon goes across my red scars.
But my red scars are not pretty.
Not like my red ribbon.
I’d rather have my pretty red ribbon than my not-so-pretty red scars.

I like looking at my ribbon.
I like admiring it.
My red ribbon is all mine.
And it helps me to be good.
I always make sure my red ribbon is in the right place.
I don’t want anyone to see and take my red ribbon away from me.
My red ribbon and i like each other.
We keep each other semi-sane.

My red ribbon makes me calm.
It squeezes just enough to put my mind at ease,
Without actually hurting me.
It’s like a friendly squeeze.
That says “I’m all you need, and I’m here.”
And it makes me feel safe sane and sound.
Without my red ribbon I’d be lost until it was found.

I like my red ribbon.
My red ribbon looks like a pretty scar.
And it squeezes instead of stinging.
My red ribbon likes me.
I tie it up in cute little knots.
And give it a place to stay.
Instead of being forgotten in the trash.
I need my red ribbon.
My red ribbon needs me.