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.