beautiful
yet ugly
wondrous,
yet-terrifying
proud
yet ashamed
wrist, thighs,
kept hidden
assumptions
and myths
when found
truth-hidden
forgotten
no one cares


shunned, pitied
disgust when found out
am i crazy?
maybe.
is that a bad thing?
probably.
do i care?
no.


short, beautiful scars
like a road map
show's me where i've been
how far i've come
how far i've yet to go.


i close my eyes
cut deeper, deeper
until the Demons in my head are quiet
hushed
from screeches to barely a whisper
but not silenced.
never silenced.
always there
lurking, creeping
trying to control me.


thankfully i remain in control.
i am the piolit
refusing to by hijacked
but am i in total control?
if i satisfy the Demons
am i doing the bidding of them?
or maybe am i taking control?
do the Demons control me?
i know not.
all i know:
i abhor
i adore
myself-


my scars.