Everyday I am haunted
By the scars on my hips,
wrist,
stomach,
and thighs.
I hope everyday my parents won't see them.
I'm scared of what others think
I'm scared that I will be sent away again,
Away to a place that filled me with fear,
A place people call, "The Mental House,"

Yes, I did try to **** myself,
but that was long ago
But now I struggle with the razors that call my name
The yearning for the sting of a cut across my scarred skin
The desire to feel like I'm not in a dream.
Everything is so unreal
I never thought it would happen
But it did,
now I'm living with it.

I'm happy to say I am three weeks clean,
But I don't think it will last very long
Life is not easy
and I'm not that strong.