I grab the short-sleeved shirt out of my drawer and take what feels like years to put it on
Pausing at each step thinking about how I haven\'t worn this shirt in so long
As the shirt wraps me up like a warm blanket, the scars stay visible on my arm
Their white glow radiates, causing anyone\'s gaze to gravitate toward them
I rip the shirt off, salty tears finding their way into my eyes
Sitting on the bedroom floor, I see a shadowy figure in the distance, bite-size
Her blond hair glides alongside her as she makes her way over to me
Her dress bouncing as she strides happily
There is a bright innocent smile plastered on her lips
That quickly dissipates when her eyes fall onto the white streaks along my wrists
She doesn\'t hesitate to speak and these next words chilled me to the core
“We aren’t supposed to pet the cat when he’s angry, you know his claws are sharp!”
I feel the tears once again come to my eyes
Waiting until she bounces away before I break my disguise
I remember when I was just as innocent as her
Before all those nights crying with my vision blurred
When scars were caused by cats
And scissors were used in crafts