Hiding..

The cuts run deep

The cuts run wide

Criss crossing

in every way

Here, there, everywhere

Up my arm, down my arm.

Skin blood stained.

Covering the cuts,

so no one knows the things you do.

So no one asks questions.

So no one knows how much you really hide.

I choose to hide so much under these cuts.

Behind the smile I choose to put on every morning.

So no one suspects.