I hear you in the hall.
Look at me and whisper she is the cutter.
I always want to read my poems in class, but everyone discourage me because of me cutting.
You don't take the time to ask if I stopped cutting.
I cut but at least I don't gossip and lie to fit in.
I have my place being the cutter.
I am the who knows who I am.
I may cut, but I down whisper because there is nothing interesting going on at school.
That's stupid.
I am the one who isn't scary to say that I am a cutter in the middle of the lunch room.
I am the one you whisper to your friends about.
I am just like you, but with a different face.
I am no better or worst because I cut.
I am just not scared to show you people who I really am.
I showing you that I am real by showing the cuts that are lined down my arms.
