Sweaters In Summer

Arizona summers are
Hot
Decrepid
Scortching temperatures rise and rise
And my sweater and long jenes hug tight around my body
Keeping together secrets my teacher said she might have seen
And I told her it was the cat
But failed to mention that I didnt have a cat

To say that the razor blade became my friend
Or my lover
Or my savior
Would be a bold faced lie

The razor blade was a tool
It was a sword that killed the monsters that were named insecurity and terror
They slept somewhere underneath the flesh of my theighs
It was a poor girls medication
It was a way to make art of my pain

Its song was a whisper when I was scared
It was a scream louder then the music that was trying to save me
It was a stinging feeling in the shower
It was an abuser
Demanding
"Release me from my hiding spot
Spin me in your fingers like strands of silver hair
Press me against you
Clasp me tight
Let me show you what its like
To be in control"

Theres nothing pretty about being a teenage cutter
Theres nothing romantic about fearing your own skin
Theres nothing pretty about wanting to die

But in those moments when 12 becomes 30
And 30 becomes fuck I lost track
I apologize to the musicians that wasted their lyrics on a girl whos too far gone
Find another 12 year old who needs a friend
I got mine
And it sleeps taped underneath my desk
And its got acquaintances that line my body in discolored strokes

How can I get better when my own body becomes a trigger