Metamorphasize

Cut***

Relief engulfs me when I am cut,

First I became addicted to the emotional cuts I made,

Only to myself,

My mind begins to play through the worst of my memories...

Not releasing its hold on me,

Until it is not enough,

Not anymore.

The scars that formed within my heart and soul,

They don't give me what I want,

I don't feel the pain intensify when I relive the same thoughts

Like I do with my favorite songs,

They constantly play...

The blood does not flow,

It doesn't meet the air,

The sensation dies away.

A hollow feeling,

It began with a zit,

Me exorcising it from my face,

Using needles to penetrate the skin.

And I thought I saw one on my leg,

The needle wasn't enough.

That was the first day I took a blade to my skin,

The blood flowed.

It would stop, but the stinging remained,

And another scar formed.

I loved seeing the thing that made me destroy my body reappear from within my mind,

Now on my legs and inner thighs.

Hidden underneath layers of clothing,

Lies of being self-conscious, or having too much respect for myself to wear shorts.

Or short skirts,

What a boldface lie,

A lie everyone believed.

The sensation, the blood flowing,

Radiating heat from my skin,

As it tries to repair itself.

Knowing the work it had done will soon be useless.

Watching the thing the makes our hearts function,

Watching it flow, needing to see more as it dries.

And is washed off...

If only my tears would dry and disappear like my blood does,

If only I wasn't anxious about going to school.

Being paranoid that someone will see the irritation around my eyes,

A glaze of water blocking my vision, making me blink rapidly...

But they never do,

They never notice.

They pay more attention to how I walk, what feelings radiate off my skin,

Than the face that God has given me.

I am thankful for that,

I learned to trap the feelings within the scared walls of my soul.

I taught myself how to walk like I don't care,

When everything within cares too much.

Another band aid hugs my skin,

Underneath the mask I wear, the barriers I've made,

And the armor I put on everyday,

It is not a style, not always,

It is an effort to survive another day without seeing pity within the eyes of others,

Without hearing how they've been through all that I've been through,

Like I said I know this,

I may be a child,

I can hear you.

I just don't want to,

I chose not to,

And raise the volume on my new favorite song...