I have scars
up and down my arm
the cover my body
but they tell of self-harm.
Having the scars
makes me remember my shame
They show that I cut
and without them, I wouldn't be the same.
At first,
cutting was a way to cope
a way to make me forget
when I no longer had hope.
It progressed into so much more
and soon it changed my life
it became an addiction
and soon I couldn't live without the knife
I'd cut everyday
just to release the pain
it took away my emotions
without it I'd be insane.
But there was no one to tell
So I kept cutting myself
all too soon
I though suicide would be good for my health.
So I cut deep into my wrist
until I saw only black
I'd committed suicide
and I'd never get life back.
