Self Harm
It hurts.
It burns.
Like a flame on my thigh.
Growing bigger.
Bigger, bigger.
Blood down my leg.
Pain down my thigh.
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.
I can’t talk.
My throat is closed.
I can’t trust.
People all talk.
I’m unsure what to do.
I’m unsure how to act.
My mask isn’t working.
I thought it was working.
It seemed so convincing.
But he could tell.
He could see I’m not truly happy.
I’m not sure how to feel.
My happy mask is broken.
I don’t know how to fix it.
I can’t fix it.
I can’t stop the hurt.
The pain, the burn,
The heartache, the flame.
My thigh is stained red.
Forever stained with blood.
I can’t hide it.
Not anymore.
But I have to try.
For them.
I have to try.
Even if it causes my demise.
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