Submissions by cassiem

Sometimes when I look at my scars
The raised, purple gashes on my thighs
my arms
my hands
my chest
my stomach
everywhere I could reach

I spin backwards
I fall
Back into the memories that haunt me

As I trace the soft slashes
so soft
(how can something born of such self-hatred be so soft?)
I see myself
As if I was looking through someone else’s eyes

They call this “disassociation”
Say it’s normal
But I don’t seem very normal, as I try desperately to feel

Every scar that I’ve made
I remember why...

When I was thirteen,
I knew nothing of pain
I was a sweet summer child, naïve and fresh faced

When I was fourteen,
My innocence was stolen from me
In fumbled words and hurried hands

When I was fifteen,
I began cutting myself
And the pain ran from my wrists

When I was sixteen,
I tried finding love in other people
I didn’t know it had to come from myself

When I was seventeen,
I was declared “better”
And back to a functioning member of society

When I was seventeen and a half,
The darkness came for me...