My skin is scarred.
From life.
From emotion.
From me.
Childhood scraps.
That blade,
All have left a story.
All don't need to be told.
Some are by accident.
Some are not.
The pain in each.
Tells its own story.
From the day you learned to ride a bike when you were five.
To when you needed to release the pain you felt at fifteen.
From fun times with friends.
To hatred you felt towards yourself.
From the ones you brag about.
Battle wounds.
To the ones you hide with your sweater.
Attention whore.
I have millions of scars.
Ones from when I was a baby.
Ones from just two weeks ago.
Each tear I cried.
Felt pain.
But not all hold the emotion.
The emotion.
Hate.
Love.
Sadness.
Fear.
That the ones you did to yourself do.
Self Harm is not a joke.
I've done it.
Not to horriblel extent.
But to get rid of pain that I felt.
The hatred I felt.
The fear.
I am not going to be hipocrytical.
And say don't ever do it.
But think before you do it.
Is it worth the chance of death?
Is it for attention?
Why do I need to?
answer truthfully.
Because in the end you might not do it.
