A blank canvas no longer

Blood flows down the blank canvas

Known as my body.

Although, 

It’s not really blank anymore.

It’s covered in thin red lines,

Caused by the metal blade in my hand.

There are blistering burns too,

Caused by the lighter

Kept in the kitchen drawer.

Some patchy spots

With missing skin,

Caused by the nails

That are attached to my very own hands.

Scars on my knuckles,

From when I force up my dinner.

Each and every night.

These scars I hide so well, 

The secrets I’ll never tell

The scars that cover my body,

Which is a blank canvas no longer.