Sitting
Wondering
When can I cut next?
It's an addiction I can't stop.
As hard as I try,
I will never be the same.
I bring the blade to school
I hide in the stall
Waiting for people to leave.
I cut too deep.
And I get scared.
I pray.
"I will never do it again.
I don't want to die."
Knowing these are all lies.
I cut again.
People start asking.
Their concern is frightening.
What would they think?
Would they try to change me?
I already hate myself enough,
Without them hating me too.
I deny.
Try, and try again,
To fool them into believing I am ok.
When I am anything but.
