fading scars are more of a trigger than setting a blade in front of me.
the scars that have proven my self worth for months on end, are leaving me.
and my sense of identity leaves with them.
i can’t help but want to add more, more lines to my pale scarred thighs.
just so i could see the red substance pour from the wound i created.
just so i could feel something again.
i just need to feel.
i can’t keep going through the motions with no feeling or emotion.
its killing me…
its making me want to cut over the fading scars that are placed strategically across my arm and legs,
ruin the progress i’ve made,
just to relapse with whatever i can get my hands on.
my scars are always what gets to me.
forcing me to no longer have cuts that are healing,
but cuts that are bleeding…