This isn't the kind of sickness that can be excuses that can be excused in school....
This is the kind that remains unnoticed until it kills but still remains disparaged and minuscule.
The slashes on my wrist aren't because I'm weak and vain;
They're there because when i started to stumble I found a way to try'n stop the pain...
Instead of being spiteful towards others like you were to me,
I turned savage on myself to stop the agony.
YOU ARE READING
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PoetrySelf-written poems.. ***trigger warning; contain speech abt self harm , self loathe, etc
