February 28th marks the day That I am, miraculously, a year clean- Clean from the monstrosity known as self harm
The blood has long since dried, wiped away by time The scars are there, but old, the stories that have long since been told- engraved in flesh, have healed The pages of that painful novel are now faded, but the reminder is still clear But, I fold My cards are on the table now- pure honesty The blades have been tossed out into the sea However Even though I'm clean of this I would not say, that I am free
The struggle Temptation Torment What else could set me free?
But I know, The very thing that frees me Is the very thing that binds me And leaves a ****** stain called addiction Not just on my wrists or hips But inside my frame My mind is not the same