It started because I was upset with a friend for cutting herself
first I used an earring
all that did was make a huge red mark on my arm...
that wasn't enough,
I needed something with more power and that would leave more than just a mark
I wanted something that would leave a cut...a scar
I moved on to scissors,
holy shit did that burn!
the scissor weren't enough either,
I still had no scars and that upset me so I went on a search for something better,
something more damaging.
without using a knife.
the thought of using a knife terrified me
for I didn't do this to try and kill myself
I found something better,
something small that I could carry with me everywhere I went
school, church, out with friends,
to the store with Mom...
I mean everywhere!
I never left my room without it.
finally I had success,
the safety pin not only left a cut,
but it left scars too.
even better than that,
it drew blood,
which made me smile.
it's been so long since I've felt the sensation
after striking my skin
with the sharp point
of the shiny little safety pin
is it sick to say I loved that feeling?
probably, but I'll say it anyway.
that's part of why I cut for so long,
so many times.
even when I wasn't depressed.
I took comfort in the burning sensation it gave me when I cut myself...
I can't promise that it's over.
