In shadows deep, where pain resides,
A canvas marked by crimson tides,
A symphony of anguish played,
Within this realm, where wounds cascade.
Self-harm, a tempest, dark and raw,
An intimate dance of flaws and awe,
Where souls unravel, seeking release,
In search of solace, a twisted peace.
Through veiled whispers, secrets unfold,
A language etched in scars untold,
A primal scream, a silent plea,
To find redemption, to feel, to be.
The blade, a cruel and trusted friend,
A tool to numb, to transcend,
A conduit for emotions buried deep,
A gateway to a world unseen, but steep.
Each stroke, a carving on fragile skin,
A map of battles fought within,
The pain, a language etched in red,
A testament to the thoughts unsaid.
Graphic images etched on flesh,
A testament to the soul's unrest,
A cry for help, a desperate plea,
To understand, to set oneself free.
Oh, eventful journey of pain's embrace,
Where scars become a sacred space,
In this vast tapestry of human strife,
A testament to the complexities of life.
But let us not turn a blind eye,
To those who suffer, who silently cry,
For in understanding, we may find,
A way to heal the wounds that bind.
Let empathy flow, like rivers wide,
To quell the storm that brews inside,
For in compassion, we hold the key,
To guide lost souls towards serenity.
So, let us shed the veil of shame,
And learn to break the cycle's chain,
For within each heart that's torn apart,
Lies the potential for a brand-new start.
In unity, we'll stand, hand in hand,
Embracing scars, in all their grand,
And through compassion's gentle grace,
We'll heal the wounds, find a better place.
