April 4, 2013

It’s hard to love myself,
Let alone believe someone can love me,
I get so upset to the point,
Where I cry myself to sleep,
Wrap myself up in blankets and bandages to hide the pain,
Is it wrong to do so?

When you caress my cheek,
I flinch from past memories,
When you hold my hand,
The blood running against my bandages stain it.

Don’t you feel the scars beneath the fabric of my sleeve?
The roughness when you grasp my wrist,
Even if it’s a gentle touch,
The flinching I make when I move my hand a certain way.

My well being is crumbling beneath my feet,
My brain triggering me to slash my wrists even more,
And even though you make me think I’m wonderful,
And tell me day by day how I am sweet perfection.

I go home and look in the mirror,
I cry,
Looking at the image I see of myself,
Distraught and ugly,
I see myself and wonder,
How can you even stand to look at me?

When I can’t even see the beauty within myself.