Mom

Dear mom, 

 I notice the way that you advert your eyes when you see my battle scars. Maybe it's hard for you to accept the fact that I am different from other teenagers. Maybe you don't want to acknowledge them in fear of upsetting me or reopening my wounds. Internal & external wounds that are trying to heal, yet still visible. I am reminded of them everyday, when I am in the shower & when I wear shorts on hot beautiful summer days. The wind speaks to them when I step outside. My tears greet them with a warm sensation of companionship when I bow my head to let the tears drop. I don't advert my eyes when I see them, I stare at them.. they're a friendly reminder of my strength. "How do you keep from killing yourself?" you ask. Well, you let your pain seep from the inside of your body until you feel relief, then you continue on your day as if nothing happened. You do not cut too deep, so that the bleeding can stop. Some days though, I think about letting all of the blood flow from my body, sweeping my pain up with it... until there is none left. Until I can no longer feel the pain dripping from my body.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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