Beautiful Enough To Frame

Are They Real?

My scars have gotten so faded

You can barely see them

There are times when people notice

And ask if they're real

As dumb as it sounds of a question

I question the actual question itself

Maybe they mean it in a literal sense?

Or maybe they mean it much deeper

Are they actually real in the sense

That you really tried to kill yourself?

Are they real in the sense

That they needed to be that big

To get the job done?

Are they real in the sense

That if I were to touch them with my fingers

I could feel what you felt

When that knife quickly glided across

Like butter on a hot pan

And the moment right before the blood

When you can actually see inside of your arm

And your fingers shake out of rage and sadness

And uncertainty and regret and remorse

Until you finally don't feel anything at all

And it's as if the world stopped moving

With the cool, wet feeling on your arm

The only thing keeping you awake

Are they real in the sense

That if I asked how you got them

You would tell me the truth?