count my little scars, i’ve got dozens down inside

this is a little vulnerable post. a poem about self-harm, which i have struggled with for four years.

i was a cutter

but also a burner

i did it because

it was that or suicide

i know “better” now

because people look

at me differently

i am only human

a mentally ill one,

at that

but that doesn’t mean

you get to gawk at me

or that i’m less than

i’ve gotten better

and i’m going to

get a sleeve

not because i need

to cover up

but because it’s a reminder

of the beauty

and the pain

i have suffered

not for anyone else

just for me

it’s like a reward.