I've wanted to die. Needed to cry.
I hate it when people see my scars. I can feel their judgement.
TRIGGER WARNING
Why do we cut ourselves? A simple question.
A complex answer.
Grandma's flower shop. Once it was a grocery store. A story poem close to my heart. True story set in the decades past.
With a truth about the power of the vase. And a struggle for survival.
I like to cut myself. It’s f****d up, I know, but I get a perverse pleasure from it.
No scars to hide. It's nice not to have to tell my wife,
that I did it again.
I always share my scars with you, so that you do not feel it too.
My “childhood story” and accepting the skeletons in the closet.
I hate it when people see my scars. I can feel their judgement.
TRIGGER WARNING
Why do we cut ourselves? A simple question.
A complex answer.
Grandma's flower shop. Once it was a grocery store. A story poem close to my heart. True story set in the decades past.
With a truth about the power of the vase. And a struggle for survival.
I like to cut myself. It’s f****d up, I know, but I get a perverse pleasure from it.
No scars to hide. It's nice not to have to tell my wife,
that I did it again.
I always share my scars with you, so that you do not feel it too.
My “childhood story” and accepting the skeletons in the closet.