On her arms,
more stories were told than possible to read
They told stories of pain
Broken trust
Unloyal liars
And most importantly,
They held stories
of the monsters in her head
She'd claimed never to do anything to herself intentionally
Liar
She may have stories,
but not in what you'd think
She wasn't plagued with scars
None of the stories stained forever
Not from a blade
Instead..
Instead it was from fists.
Fists that balled up in the very wrath that she held in when she was seen.
Bruises.
She was plagued
With bruises.
Bruises which faded
And created an endless amount of stories.
Nobody reads them though.
Because the bruises fade by the time they can see them.
But that doesn't mean the stories are gone.
They're still there.
They still hurt.
Maybe not physically,
But mentally.
And they try to destroy her from the inside out.
