I've seen the way one cut can turn into a hundred,
I've watched how my sisters pure and innocent skin became scarred and troubled.
I watched how one cut spread like poison ivy across her body.
and it wasn't tragically beautiful.

I watched how she turned against herself,
her arms became battlefields
every mark became another piece of herself that she could no longer identify
and it wasn't tragically beautiful,
it was haunting
it was tragic
but it was not beautiful.