Reminders

Jagged white lines are a reminder.
A memory of painful words in a black binder.
 
To stop the agony of something unreal.
Something not fake is when you do feel.
 
I remember the euphoric sensation.
I remember being apart of the cutter nation.
 
I am not weak by any means,
but my mind is fraying, undoing by the seams.
 
Memories, I think, are filled with pain.
Is that why when I turn back, I don't recall being sane?