Who do i actually do my poems for?  Is it for me, my parents, or the girl next door? You know the one that tries to hide the cuts on her arms. She is physically as well as mentally scarred. My heart cries out to her, I want to help. But what do I say? I have scars myself. Sure I know what she goes through, I go through the same stuff. But how can I make her stop, when all I do is still cut.