"I want to cut my wrists."
That's how I know
I'm not okay.

I scream those words in my head
And then ignore them.
Daily.

When I think about it,
I can feel a sort of
Euphoria
On my left wrist.

I'm not proud of this in the least
In fact,
I hate it.

I hate how those scars
Keep showing up
And I hate how I want
More.

I hate it
I hate it
I hate it.