Naked

If you saw my body

You would want to close your eyes

Or at least have myself cover

The scarred wrists and thighs

You would try to ignore it

But you wont be able to

Because who wants to look at this

Cut up flesh

Sliced skin

Some still healing

But some fresh

Some are scarred

But still deep

But those ones will always be there

The others wont, hopefully

Taylor

Opening up : as someone with self-harm scars I cant even look at my body at times, so the thought of someone seeing them again, scares me. But whoops i guess, im using it as a reason to try to stop, which has kinda worked but not completely…. but yeah slowly but surely

Glamourise

Sorry for making it sound beautiful

I know its not something to be proud of

But its part of me

So I will write it in imagery

Like the roses pouring out of my skin

Or the thought of me drifting into the starless night

The endless sky

I’m not trying to glamourise it

But I have to

Because if not

How do I live with myself

With what I do

Except for make it something beautiful

But for me, not you.

Taylor

People can find it upsetting when reading things that glamourise sensitive subjects like self harm, or depression. And I understand their worry of making it something beautiful and making it something to look up to or try. But I have to write it as though its beautiful, because its part of me, part of my scars, and the missing serotonin. And I know it isn’t beautiful, but I need to see the beauty.

Pain

The scars on my wrists

remind me of this

intense feeling of pain.

Not the blood rushing out

nor the blade of my skin.

But the darkness,

the pain,

the pain within.

Taylor

As someone who still carries scars from their past, they are a reminder of where I was, compared to where I am now. They show me the darkness and pain that I felt, and although sad to have to carry it with me, its a positive reminder of where I came from, and where I don’t want to go again.