The blood flows down her arm
The relief is bitter sweet.
But she quickly realizes what she has done
And that familiar feeling of regret washes over her
She looks under the bed and reaches for the shoebox
The one she had hope she would never have to pull out again
Her home made first aid kit.
Everything she needs to nurse her self-inflicted wound is in that box
As she watches the blood run down her arm
She feels that overwhelming feeling
That feeling of disappointment, of failure
The feeling is strong and the tears begin to flow
Her chest gets tighter as she starts to shake
Her breath becomes short
The fear of failure has become the only thing she can feel
I have already done it once, what’s a few more going to do? She asks herself.
So she picks up the blade again and begins dragging it across her arm
Over and over again
And the blood drains from her body.
That feeling of failure and regret quickly flees
Her arm is burning the pain is overwhelming
So overwhelming she can’t feel anything
She is numb
Numb at last, she can’t think can’t feel, she is in a daze
Life has come to a screeching halt
Nothing matters now
What’s done is done and you can’t undo it
And the blood trickles down her arm
This is what she wanted
To feel no pain
To escape from the world
To forget the regret
Still numb but aware of what is going on she reaches for the box
She begins wiping the blood from her arm
And begins the steps to caring for her wounds
She gently rubs Neosporin over the wounds to prevent infection.
Band aids won’t cover the cuts completely they are too big
Not to mention there are far too many cuts to use band aids
So she pulls out the gauze and begins to wrap her arm
From her elbow to her wrist she wraps
Then she goes back from her wrist to her elbow
And finally back up to her wrist
Hoping that’s enough to keep it from bleeding through
She pulls out the tape and tapes her arm to hold the gauze in place.
Searching frantically for her sweater so she can hide her bandaged arm
She realizes her shirt is covered in blood
She quickly changes her shirt
Nice and clean no blood
She grabs her sweater and darts out of her room
She putts on her happy face
And goes to Church as if nothing happened.
That night she lays down in her bed and watches TV
The blood stained shirt in the corner of her room catches her eye
She roles her sleeve up and looks at her arm.
Did I really do it again she asks herself
Hoping this is all just a dream she slowly begins unwrapping her arm.
As she removes the tape she begins to see the blood stained gauze
Whale removing the gauze she begins to feel that something is causing her skin to stick to it
She continues to unwrap her arm
As the skin on her arm becomes visible so do the fresh wounds.
I did it, I really did it she says to herself as the tears begin to run down her cheeks.
How many are there? How many times did I cut? She asks herself.
So she slowly begins to count.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5
5! She exclaims as the anger rushes over her.
How could I do this to myself again?
5 times? 5 times!
She begins to scold herself.
You idiot, you stupid idiot!
They are right, they are all right about you.
You are a screw up. You’re a fucked up little girl just like they said.
You are worthless she tells herself
As she cries herself to sleep and hopes she never wakes up.



You might see her scars but you have no idea of her pain.
You only see half of the story, there is more to her than than her scars.
If you would just take the time to talk to her you would know that.