It has been a year,
A year since the blade kissed my skin,
Since I danced with the sharp edge of pain,
And mistook it for release.

I don’t even remember the last time
The moment I stopped
But I also don’t remember the first.
Was it worth it?

The scars tell a story I don’t want to read,
Yet I wonder,
Are they loud enough?
Do they shout my struggles to a world
That rarely listens?

I was struggling.
I was really, really struggling.

I hate my scars,
The way they carve a map of hurt
Across the canvas of my body.
But they’re also not enough,
Not enough to explain the ache
That made them bloom in the first place.

Still, here I stand
A year further,
A year beyond,
Wrestling with what was
And what remains.

My heart goes to the people out their,
                                                            who write their pain on their skin.
This goes out to the addicts,
                                                 The people who starve to be pretty.
This goes out to the victims,
                                                 Who need to hear that it isn't their fault it never was and never will be.

I write my pain on my body,
                                               Reopen the scars of the past,
                              It hurts to think, breath, write, wake up.
                                       Why does it hurt??
           Please god make it stop,
I'm begging you
                            I can grind the glass to my face erase my eyes,
                                        Eat the glass and disappear from the inside,
                                                    But,
­It all feels like home,
                                   Cutting is,
My security blanket,
                                   And their trying to, take it away from me.
                                    Their sending me away.
          Why?
I need to cut myself they can't take it from me.
               I NEED it.

I have learned to love my scars.
Despite the pain behind them
They serve as a reminder
Of all the times
I decided life is worth living.

You want me to take off my clothes
The clothes of my soul
You want me to turn around slowly
Standing bare in front of you
So you can get a good look at everything
You want me to show you everything
But I know what you'll really see
You'll see my
Scars
Bruises
Darkness
Things I've long locked away
Letting few if any see
But I have one question
When I am laid bare
Will you run away?
Will you see how many
Scars
I have and worry they'll cloud my view?
Will you see my
Bruises
And wonder if I'll give you any?
Will you see my
Darkness
And worry that it will spread?
Or would you look past all that
Search for my perfections
They are there
Just few and far between
And if you see my imperfections
(Which I know you will)
And my perfections
What will you decide?
Will you stay?
Or run?
As so many have