Red
like a dark rose
as it drips from my pale
wrist is sliced.
Scars
unnoticed until
someone looks
snatching my arm.
Pulling up my sleeve
there are bandages
leaves of paper
stained a bit.
Stinging like a bee
it’s healing
that’s a problem
I need scars.
Reminding me of who I am
an unnoticed scar
on a wrist
very unimportant to humanity.
Tearing my skin
it’s beautiful to me
because it’s red
a color that’s a favourite to many.
I don’t care
what other people think
they’re not important
to me I’m nothing.
-Poemoheart11
-Katie Barber
