Shriveled

I'm not a writer.

You can see words scribbled on this paper,
or you can tell me that I'm pretty clever,
but do not call me a writer.

My shriveled wrist,
gives up on healing.
I speak to it about my heart that will never be healing.

I'm not suicidal.

You may have seen scars to put me to death,
or heard about all the attepmts to my chest,
but do not call me suicidal.