There is my friend.
It just sits there.
Waiting to be talked to.
Hoping I get mad.
So it can touch my skin.
Leave its mark.
The scars are always there.
No one knows but me.
I watch the blood drip.
I smile with relief.
Feeling calmer.
With every mark.
My friend is happy now.
Now it sits and waits.
For the next time.
It can leave its scars.
There on my arm.
