Scabs then scars. No explanations. I scraped myself, fell on a rock. Watch their faces change in shock. I know that you know so why try to hide? But I just can’t explain what goes on inside. Because you didn’t see the cuts glistening red. Watch the blade rest harmlessly as I bled. So please don’t say you understand if you’ve never picked up that blade with your hand. Don’t tell me you feel me Realize and recognize the pain inside me when I didn’t specify. But even if you did make that choice once upon a time I think I think I think I’ve crossed a line from which I can’t come back Maybe I’ll see my friends again all dressed in black.
It's an old poem that I wrote when I used to feel this way. If anyone reading this does this to themselves please GET HELP. I regret not making that choice more than anything in my life.