Most people dont believe me
When i tell them something isnt quite right
When i tell them i got overwhelmed
That one dark night
Alone in my room
Nobody answering my calls
I did something im not proud of.
And since then,
Ive done it again
And again
And again
And again
I cant seem to stop
But thats not what people dont believe
They dont believe me when i say
There is no blade involved.
It is still just as harmful
Its just easier to conceal
Easier to hide.
In public, it helps me
In the dark, it helps me
In the noise, it helps me
In the light, it helps me
I can hide it
Tell people its simply a bad habit
That i can stop easily
When in reality
It couldnt be furthur from the truth.
People ask
But how can there be scars if there is no blade?
And i say
There are thousands upon thousands of ways in which to inflict harm
I simply picked one.
I picked one that gave me pain
I picked one that teaches me strength
It makes me cunning
Resourcefull
Quick-witted
It isnt healthy, what i do
But it wouldnt seem that bad to you
After all, its just a tiny scratch.
Only a little pink scar.
For me,
Its how i deal with everything.
Life
Family
Friends
Stress
Dark
Light
Loud
Quiet
Pain­
Love
Ache
Longing.
Its just a tiny scratch
Just a few pink scars.
After ive covered it to the best of my ability
When its fresh
Its
Red
Raw
Blood
Pain
People dont need to see