Just The Cat

what’s that?

oh, it was just the cat

she was clueless


what’s on your wrist?

oh, it’s just a scratch

i was working outside

it was from the plants

i fell against one of the rocks


“it seems you’ve been attacked”

“i’ve just been unlucky with my hands”

with my arms, with my legs


can’t ever explain anything to anyone

it’s too hard

nobody listens

nobody ever will

they’ve got it too good

they don’t know

i’m a pro at talking

while people pretend to listen


This poem is about: 



This poem is about my struggling with borderline personality disorder, anxiety, and depression.  Forms of cutting are released in this poem.

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