Poetry

Poem

The cold blade going across my warm skin.

My dark red blood trickling down my arm

I show no emotion on my face as I make bloody lines on my wrist.

Scabs will appear but who says they will stay there forever.

Nothing lasts long.

The scabs will be gone and I'll be left with the shameful white marks i personally made.

Knowing that these marks will be on my wrist for eternity will forever haunt me.

I wear long sleeves 24/7 because I am ashamed of what I have done to my self.

People say it's spring or summer.

But the coldness in my mind will for now be frozen.

Some people see the scars when I don't remind my self to cover them up

Once they see it questions start.

But all I have to say is one fib.

'My cat scratched me'

Only 4 easy words can turn into one big lie.

Every where I go shame follows.

I am ashamed of lieing to the people I love, and I am ashamed of hurting myself physically and emotionally.

But I can't stop.

I can't stop the new marks on my wrist

I can't stop anything