"It wasn't your fault"  
The words follow me wherever I go;
inked into the many pages of a torn journal,
etched bloodily into the flesh of my arms.
Haunting me endlessly and echoing inside my mind in bursts of staining black.

"Why do you hurt yourself?"  
I want to scream an answer to this question,
yet I never do, I never will.
I don't have the answer they want.  
Yet my mouth wants to spit the venomous words out at them.
My tongue, however, is empty of the truth.
I smile condescendingly at their horrified faces, doing whatever I can to escape.

"Just be a good girl and everything will be fine"  
Can you not understand?  
I'm not good.
I'm bad, tainted,
my very essence
poisoned and corrupted.
  Don't touch me.
I'll contaminate you.  
Just stay away, keep an image in your head of me, smiling, happy, innocent.
Never come close enough to look past my mask, and then  everything will be okay.
  I don't want anyone to put me back together again, I deserve to be shattered.

"You don't understand!"*
How many times have I heard that?
Too many to count.
Being misunderstood is part of me,
when people finally understand
, their empathy will eventually turn to pity
I can't stand it, hate would be easier to tolerate than sadness.
  Don't be sad for me, be sad for yourself,
you're much more important than I'll ever be.
Just leave me alone, if you get too close to me I'll hurt you.
  Somehow, I will.
I will kick my way around you,
until you have no other option but to loathe me.
But I deserve it.
I always break everything,
it's now my turn to be broken.

"It's not your fault."  
Sure, keep saying that while you're 'holding' me.
I know you don't mean it.
But I'll nod my head like the doll I should be,
as if I believed you.  I'll just go along with it.
The need to make me feel pure, good…
shut out all the other signs.  
My hands can't stop shaking,
the cuts I inflict upon myself are pale white yet swollen.
The scars are reminders of how I deserve pain,
and the hideous ecstasy that comes along with it.  
But just ignore them, I don't want you to know anyway.  
Keep repeating those words to yourself, over and over again, trying to reassure me
I'll just sit there and nod soundlessly.
Watch me smile the way you want me to as I repeat it back to you.
I'm blameless. It’s not my fault.

You won't even notice the lie behind the words………
blameless…
shameless…
faultless….
guiltless…