I wrote this poem after taking a look at some of my recent scars. It finally hit me that the things I've done recently, what I've put on myself is going to be permanent. It's not just "child's play" anymore. It's not just "oh it'll go away eventually" anymore. What I've done to myself is permanent. The fact of that hit me hard, and words started bouncing around in my head.

Originally, the first part ( "Look at yourself. / You've really done it now. / I hope you're proud of yourself." ) was just supposed to be a snippet of something that I'd keep tucked away in my notes app. It wasn't supposed to be the beginning of the poem. But after I wrote it, more just started pouring out. I just ended up venting out all my frustration towards myself in it. How mad I am at myself for this, how I know nobody will be able to look at me the same once they see it, how I've destroyed myself, and how I know I'm in too deep now.

As the poem goes on, you can see it gets more "angry" and more direct. At one point it literally switches from metaphors to "It’s not stories, it’s scars. / May I say, / You have hurt yourself. / You’ve gone and cut your skin." This is to really enforce the fact that this isn't just in your head. This is real. I meant that part to be unsettling and abrupt because that's the reality of it. It's not some "beautiful pain" or "a sad person writing their story out" or any of the metaphors that anyone has used. The fact is, I self harm. The fact is, I have scars. Permanent, dark scars. It's not MEANT to be pretty. It's not MEANT