I am sad,
And angry.
Malcontented.
I want to hit you with my wounds,
Throw my scars in your face like punches.
I want to scream
"You did this to me."
Yet I know those words will never be uttered.
They would be lies anyway.
I did this to me.
I stuffed my fingers down my esophagus.
Tickling my throat with phalanges and bile.
I dragged the blades over my flesh.
Besides-
I swore to slit my wrists,
Before ever blaming you.
