My scars were the one thing that kept me alive
It's kind of counterintuitive
You would think bringing yourself to bleed would mean the opposite of a saving grace
But the pain kept me alive
It reminded me that I was still human
That I deserved to feel something
Even if in that moment it was pain
And now the pink lines have turned white
And I can't help but be confused
It hurts
More than the blade scarring smooth skin
Because the one thing that I relied on to keep me awake is fading
I don't know who I am without that pain
The constant struggle
It made me who I am
And I don't know how to be okay without it
YOU ARE READING
Ballad of an over thinker
PoetryHealing from bad relationships in the form of words. Some might be personal but hopefully this can help someone.
