I go sleep and fear the moment in the morning when I change and grimace at the throbbing new cuts that I forgot about. I hate that moment because it sucks me back into my painful, hurt reality.
I hate the moment during the day where I pull my sleeve away from my arm because its tucked under and I hit or scratch the cuts. It hurts and I'm reminded of why I'm wearing sleeves in the first place. I have to try and not grimace which is difficult.
I hate the moment at school where I forget about the scars and go to take off my sweater but quickly pull it back on, hoping no one saw. It reminds me that I'm a failure and I have to hide my arms from daylight.
I hate the moment upon waking when I realize that I am still alive and have to try and make it through another day.
That ones the worst.
YOU ARE READING
Blood Stains
Poetry*trigger warning* I'm lost•I'm broken•I'm hurt•I'm sorry ~the ones marked "x" are about my struggle with food and eating~
