sometimes it feels like my mouth is stitched shut,
maybe to prevent me from saying the wrong thing?
but when the stitches fray and im allowed the luxury of voice it seems like wrong is the only language i know

Burned with the evil fire of deceit and betrayal
Fallen angel tears spilt to put it out
Blood running down your body
Stitches that the cuts made
The scars they left behind show your shame
All that's left of your heart is the blackened ashes the fire left
All that's left of your body is the stitches and scars
All that's left of your ego is the shadow of your newfound shame
Blackened heart
Shadowed shame
Broken ego
And your body a reminder
*The ashes blew away and your blackened heart never healed back to a loving red...

stitches.
a stab taken for healing purposes
proof my being is but dangling on a string.
mental scarring turns out to be more permanent than the ones I gave my wrist.

self-hate, self-doubt, self-destruction
I'm a snake that bites its own tail
donating a venom transfusion into my bloodstream.

staples.
shards of metal punched through my life
in a sad attempt of composure.
running from myself as my life runs away from me
emotional damage runs deeper than any blade could.

self-medicated by the pain
and mistaking poison for a sweet elixir
my world turns upside down in a matter of minutes.

sutures.
a single strand of fiber
responsible for keeping everything sewn together.

I'm a pretty little cross-stitch
patterned to perfection but laced with nightmares and a handful of bad memories.

You are quite a gifted surgeon.
In fact you cut me so clean and sharp
I barely even knew it at the time.
Waking the next day in my hospital bed
was where I met my pain.
Being with you was like anesthesia:
I was so grateful for you to help me.
You were the one who weakened me.
My senses failed: your scalpel cut
clean to the core, and then I just let you
sew me back together. The nurses say
I am very lucky, that I had a good doctor.
I know better. I was once a person and
now I am Sally Stitches, or better yet, Raggedy Ann.
I am no one's operation game.
Letting you in brings only stitches and needles,
and it was I who checked myself in.
I need to learn to stitch myself at home.
Consider this my checking out.

sometimes it feels like my mouth is stitched shut
maybe to prevent me from saying the wrong thing?
but when the stitches fray
and im allowed the luxury of voice
it seems like wrong is the only language I know