The artful scar that stains me. That is my pain. I've never cut myself but when I think about it, I've allowed others to. A mark I've asked for. Blood I can't draw out myself. scars left that won't disappear. Pain inflicted because I am weak to induced on myself. Symbols resembling part of my life, pain I've given. Given to myself. Overtime I cry. I cringe with what it is, how it was, now. I move forwards. Pain is relative. That relativity is my tattoos. Tattoos are my scars.
and these scars are my pain.
Am I a self harmer?

In ways no one but me understands...

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5