Looking at every last memory on my skin i realize how many stories i can tell.
All of them surfacing at the exact moment you need them to.
No one questions it,
No one denies it,
No one truly understands it.
Because sometimes the pills dont answer me anymore.
Because now the alcohol isnt answering me anymore.
Because now no one is answering me anymore and im answering to myself.
I cant help the pain it brings,
But i cant help the relief that washes over me once the deed is done.
I cant help the silence that follows.
No one understands the unsaid words that trace along my legs anymore.
No one understands the screams that are now filling my shoulders and barely vanishing from my wrists.
They only understand that i miss him.
They don't even listen to that.
They dont care.
They dont understand that as the cuts play sad songs on my legs and body that its only singing.
Its always going to be singing.
Because scars are beautiful.
Scars arent always sad songs either.
Sometimes they explain how something came to be,
How a spot came into occurence.
How a life handled so much and finally just gave up.
So many times i have wished to give up...
This time i think i am.
Cant say because the gun was loaded,
Cant say because the knife... i dont know slipped,
Cant say it was too many long hours of sleep.
Can't even say it was all the voices going unanswered and im giving them their wish.
All i can say is that these scars the ones across my ankles,
Dancing with no memory on my wrist,
Being in too deep on my legs now,
All i can say was that i was once beautiful.
But life took that from me.
All you could say was that she held on as long as she could,
And yet you let me go.
You couldnt handle it.
YOU ARE READING
Indigo
PoetryLooking through the eyes of a people you learn that there are two options: Your either plastic or dead. Being an empath isnt easy but you learn that the way you see things is much more then just black and white and growing up sideways i learned that.
