Last Words

Proud

I'm proud I've never cut.

I've been so close,

Held the knife against my skin.

But I'm always saved,

Yet it happens again and again.

Am I really safe?

I don't feel that's true.

But some people make me feel that way,

And by some people I mean you.

I've never broken my skin, not on purpose.

I've never bled from a straight cut,

One made by a knife.

But I pick at every scab,

I pick at every scar.

Sometimes I don't wear a seatbelt

And I wish to crash the car.

I always manage to not do such horrible things

As cutting, as death.

Yet I don't tell anyone

I wish to take my last breath.

I've never cut,

And for that I'm proud.

But if the people that care about me knew what I think,

They'd definitely be wowed.

They would be scared for me,

They'd take away my sharp things.

There would always be an eye on me

To make sure I don't try to leave.

I find all these people

Online who are also proud.

But everyone in my real life

Is just ashamed and scared.

Why will they never understand,

Why can't they just be proud?