When the blue sky turns to stars

Another sleepless night, an X across my arm
The first cut didn’t do it, the second worked the charm

Don’t tell me to stop; it’s my way of dealing
It’s my way to get rid of the pain that I’m feeling

Watching the blood drip puts a smile on my face
Then I come to realize I’m just a waste of space

I cover my wrist; grab a piece of paper and a pen
I lie awake in bed write this poem as I try to mend

I silently scream so I don’t collect any attention
Telling my mom I’m depressed is something I forgot to mention

She thinks I’m a perfect little angel, could never cause any harm
Doesn’t know that I always wear a sweater to try and cover my arm

The cuts will soon heal and turn into faded scars
Then they’ll reappear when the blue sky turns to stars