I don't want any more scars on my skin
that bleed out his name,
but temptation is gushing through my veins,
flooding me with reminders
that hurting here is maybe where I will always belong.
I plaster on this fake smile,
even though my eyes crave the sight
of a slit up and stinging wrist.
I wonder what happened to my heart,
when did I stop being my own friend?
I was so small in such a big scary world,
yet it didn't matter to me what I put myself through.
My heart had no sympathy,
just blackness and a desire to feel more pain.
I don't like who I've become
but I can't let go of the benefits
of being untouchable when you are alone.
