I can never cut.
But sometimes I swear,
It feels like wounds are being carved into my heart,
And I wonder if carving these wounds unto my skin
Can relieve it.
This kind of pain you can’t reach;
No matter how far into yourself you stretch,
If I could grab my heart and squeeze it till it is numb;
Like I would if the knife slips;
Till all the red in my finger fades away;
Till all the pain in my heart fades away.

I can never cut.
Except with the words I stick myself with everyday.
You taught me how to self-harm, I took the blade from you,
And convinced myself that it hurts less if I’m the first one to say it;
That if I kept cutting at my heart,
If I kept giving myself scars,
Then the ones you gave me didn’t matter.
And I never let them heal;
The wounds,
They never heal.

I can never cut.
Because for the life of me I cannot get accustomed to pain.
I cannot get accustomed to you hurting me over and over again.
I cannot get accustomed to bleeding inside.
My wounds are too afraid to be seen.
My wounds refuse to etch themselves unto my skin;
To be so bold.
I cannot wear myself inside out;
My pain inside out.
But I swear,
When these wounds are being carved into my heart,
I consider if carving them unto my skin,
Will ever relieve the pain.