I am stretched so thin, am I even real?
Why can't I disappear?
Push it in deep and pull it away fast.
Over and over.
I need the pain. I need the release.
The sweet trickle of blood.
Every scar a reflection of the pain inside my heart.
Of the darkness.
I carved the words on my body.
They screamed so loudly in my brain, I had to get them out.
Now I've taken up another blade.
Can the pen truly be mightier than the sword?
That's what I want my pen to show.
I am not yet brave enough to show the world the marks a blade have made.
But here on paper I can let all my scars show.