Here's all the Pain you Caused.

The Death of Me (poem)

I bite my lip,
and do not speak,
because I really do not want to come off as weak.

And when I say that I feel sick,
I mean my crippling anxiety.
But no,
I do not need psychiatry.

I remember that day,
You put your hand on my bruised skin, to keep me safe me from the demons that live within.
But you know what they say,
And there will be another bad day.

I really want you to hold me,
But would that mean you would try to get to know me?
If you saw my bleeding cuts,
Would you still love me?

What if I told you that I held that blade?
What if I told you I do not want my scars to fade?
What if I told you that I am terribly afraid?

Please just stay with me,
Because your voice is the most beautiful anxiety remedy.

Just promise, that if I fall in love with you,
You will never try to hurt me.
I have had several different hands that I have loved punch me,
And one more, might just be the death of me.