The scars running down my skin aren't the ones that hurt me
It was you who used your words as knives
Who blamed everyone else for your own mistakes
Who used the anger inside as an excuse
Who used sharp blades to carve out insecurities into the bodies of those around you
Even when you were the one who had the insecurities clinging deep into your soul
Who refused to believe that there was something wrong with yourself
Who made me rake this blade across my skin
Who was an explosion of darkness and disaster
A symbol of hurt and lost hope
It was always you, bully
YOU ARE READING
This
Spiritual"My words aren't just some petty thoughts wrapped up in eloquent packaging. They are beings that have roamed in my head and have lived in my heart. Their existence starts with a tremor, and ends in a silence so profound that it cannot be broken." -H...
