The Show- Self Harm Poems/Stories

My Wrist

Just one more, I say it every time

Over and over again

i fall into the spiral of gloom

and make the marks upon my skin

Wrists can be hidden easily

by some l or a sweater

to keep the curious or worried away.

I have learned how to fake a smile, and a laugh.

I appear happy and loving on the outside

but am dying on the inside

I express myself through

the Cuts on My Wrist