A cut.
That's how it starts.
Just a little scratch;
Something small,
Nothing too bad.
Some cut their wrists,
And some cut their thighs.
Some cover it with sleeves,
While others use smiles.
Some prefer razors,
And some play with knives.
But eventually,
It all adds up.
Scar
After
Scar.
But we still tell ourselves
It's just a cut.
Never too deep;
Never enough to die.
But enough to feel the pain.
Enough to feel the scream inside.

***

"The first cut wasn't the deepest. No, not at all. It was like the others, a subtle rend of anxious skin, a gentle pulse of crimson, just enough to hush the demon shrieking inside my brain."

~Unknown