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Blood is my ink

Pain is my muse

My skin is a canvas

For me to abuse.

*

Old scars crisscross

Where friends cannot see

Red making new patterns

My own form of release.

*

Blade cuts at flesh

Bringing a refreshing sting

And while it doesn’t fill the void

It relieves the empty ping.

*

And every day I cover them up

A fake smile always trapped on my face

Nerves itching for that special feeling

That my mind cannot erase.

*

Some would think I’m looking for pity

But it’s opposite that

I was broken once by my own careless act

And this is the way

I pay

Myself

Back.