Sinister Saint Poet Rhyme

Confession of self harmer

The cuts are clean 
They will heal nicely 
The wounds are bound up tightly 
Cannot see nothing unsightly 

Silver strands lay across the skin when seen 
Sporadically laid across the legs
Can be passed off as rough play 
True knew either way
 
If others knew 
They never said 
Probably too afraid to find us dead 
With razor blades in hand or blood already shed

We didn't do it for the fear of dying 
We did it because we were tired of lying 
To ourselves about how we feel 
Never properly taught how to deal

For the pain we felt inside 
We were told to always hide
Made it seem like it was our fault 
For never wanting to talk 

When we were ready and mentally steady 
We would come to find we would be dismissed 
Stating it was part of the teenage bliss 
Never truly knowing if we gained death kiss

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