Self-harm scars tell a story
Of who a person is
And what they're going through
But all too often
The stories they tell
Have a storybook ending
Like something from the brothers Grimm
Telling instead,
The story
Of what they went through
And who a person was...

When people talk about nicotine
why do they only ever talk about the addiction?

why does no one ever
speak
of the choice you made to start
of the goodbye to normal breath where you
didn't find yourself craving for
more

When people talk about alcohol
why do they only ever talk about the hangovers?

why does everyone just
ignore
the infinitely perfect moment
the absurd impossibility of the existence of a time
outside of childhood where you can dwell
in blissful
ignorance

When peole talk about writing
why do they only ever talk about the worlds inside your head?

why does someone somewhere
always
pretend away the slow deterioration
pretend the pros outweigh the cons of voices walking around
dressed up as friends to your fading
sanity

When people talk about love
why do they only ever talk about the heart and blood and soul?

why does anyone even
bother
talking about love in the first place
when all it is is tingling skin and melting bones
complete with the undue thought of
you and
me