I understand.
People may say that makes me just as crazy as you are, but
I understand.

I understand why you need to feel physical pain to match the emotional pain.
I understand that you didn’t know why you were hurting before, but now you do.
I understand that it makes you feel justified in your sadness.

But I don’t understand why you do it
From here it looks like you have it all.
But then again, I also can’t see your scars from here.

I can’t see the scars that score your skin
Like a game of tic-tac-toe, that go
Deep as a river, flowing blood as dark as the circles under my eyes
Because I stay awake at night, thinking of you, and wondering why
I’m not a good enough friend to help you stop.
Asking myself why I’m scared, too.
But not as scared as you.