I stared at my wrists,
Thin, pale scars stared back.
I promised everyone I would quit,
Mainly so they would leave me alone.
Words running through my mind.
Words carved on my arms.
Hate, ugly, fat, unloved.
The words that made me feel so small,
Permanently carved into my skin.
Everyone thinks I’m doing better,
that all the harsh words have stopped.
But they haven’t.
Everyone thinks I’ve stopped cutting,
But no one ever checks thighs.