I Cut

I cut when I’m sad
I cut when I’m mad
I cut when I’m scared 
I cut due to curiosity 
I cut when in doubt 
My cuts have filled half my arms 
Most have faded white 
Some are healing brown 
Hopefully, only a few are dried scabs 
And fresh red 
Those horizontal cuts I did when I’m depressed 
Those diagonal cuts I did when I’m angry 
Those vertical cuts I really did to try and test 
The amount of tears I’ve put in 
Carving myself and perfecting my scars 
Because I am an art piece 
Like a performer on the stage being mercilessly judged 
But they seem to turn a blind eye 
To the scars 
To the tears 
To the ruined mascara 
And it’s for the best that it stays unnoticed 
Before they start publicizing my personal issues