any day i cut myself.
the feeling before, angry. very depressing and worried.
stressed or otherwise. and you cut.
you cut because you are scared of something, to tell
somebody something.

before i became aware that i had some sense, i would
cut myself, itch and wipe off the blood i saw.
at the very first, i would try to hide it. soon though,
that task became too time-consuming. then others
had to see my cuts, neighbors asking questions.

even when i saw the blood, i thought that
it was someone else. my blood came through
the razor cuts, and i thought that it was
someone else in that mirror-reflection. but thankfully now,
though i am uncertain of the exact date -or date period- of the last
time i cut myself...

anyway, i hope that i never will, cut myself again.
not sure of how to finish this, red is not my favorite color.

part 2

cutting is such intimacy. for never having to know
what intimacy is, i fed into my habit more
by the feeling that i needed to be loved. cutting
felt so good, to actually love the cuts, the marks
on your arm, on your legs, wherever. and now,

it is a habit i no longer want a part of. it is not
the intensity of the action: how deep do you cut, it is
the "why", it is "why are you doing this?" and i never
truly had a strong answer to that "why", i never truly had
a strong reason of why i was indeed, doing this to myself.

i hate to preach about things, but this is important.
it is not the cosmetic reasons of the marks, it is simply,
the "why...why are you doing this?" now,
does it feel better, that this is coming from someone
who has actually been to this underworld that some of us
are still in; the pain of discovery is too strong to let go.
because you want other people to SEE your cuts,
so you can get help.

the truth of the pain, the truth of the tears,
the anger, the lost smiles. my truth includes years
of embarrassment, on my end and others. other problems
that are well-documented on my end- i do not choose
to discuss them here. confusion about my sexuality
towards women. every factor,

weighs on your mind. sometimes for me, i just
did not even have enough strength
to injure myself. today, i have lost my mind a little.
confusion among the common day, waiting for a blessing.
writings on my wall reveal a rape,
among the arms of my soul, my soul. it waits for a love to come,
when it finds a love, it will cry, be angered, and smile finally,
at the lost, of my fears!

one thing i have learned, my cut marks
will never leave me. when i meet new people, and some
may notice the marks on my arms, they will have questions.
i will have to be prepared to give them an answer. first,
to be prepared for that moment... two, i will have realized
that once i have given the answers to their questions,
i will have truly known, that i have moved on, and
that cutting myself is no longer a part of who i am.

when that moment arrives, will you be prepared
for the questions, will you have enough strength
to answer their questions? remember,

the answer is within you; never forget that, never
forget that!