I've been cutting myself.
I know what you're thinking,
But I know what I'm doing.
I don't do this to hurt myself,
As a matter of fact the feel of the object against my skin doesn't make me cringe.
It's the scars it leaves behind that is my aim.
I target those who say they love me but hurt me.
I cut myself in several visible places,
One on my face and another on my arm,
I make the cuts bold enough to scare.
Then I step out of my hiding place,
I show myself to my so-called 'lovers',
I wait for their reaction.
Some shout and scream,
Others remain quiet and still.
I bring out my knife and attempt to administer another stab,
I wait to see who saves me or tries to stop me,
But to my greatest surprise,
Everyone takes to their heels,
No one wants to be blamed for me being maimed.
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