Poetry by Taylor

I was young and dumb

it started by carving my hand

with the nail on my thumb

But then I started etching my doodles

into my skin

Before I knew what self-harm was

I had no way of stopping it

It started as art

then became a control

Controlling depression

Trying to lessen

Never learning the lesson

On how else do I deal with all this shit unless I can show it

You need battle scars to prove your battle

So I make them

And I use them as a diary

I can trace each one back to a day or an episode

I can remember how shit I felt

And I can see that I have no fresh ones

Theres a lot of bare skin

So there must be something coming

There must be something on its way

But it’s been so long now

And nothings changed

Have I left it all behind?

Or will I fall again