I don't want you to feel bad for me.
No matter how many blades I press against my skin, I do not want that.
You people thought that I was doing it because I wanted attention, but in reality, I was doing it because I wanted you to leave me alone.
I chose this.
I wanted this.
But you wouldn't let me have it.
So it continued.
On and on.
Until someone noticed.
That little warning.
"Your shirt." She quietly informed me.
I looked down to see my scars had revealed themselves.
But only to her, because she warned me before anyone could notice.
And to that I am forever grateful.
I didn't want your attention.
I just wanted to be free.
YOU ARE READING
Unable to Function
PoetryIn only a thousand characters I will try to explain, my meaning of every short story here. To give myself more of a challenge I will try to describe them in one word. In one word I will reveal the meaning of these tales. In one word I will describe...
