i cannot stand the thought of my next birthday

i cannot stand the thought of another day

with excuses

and hiding

and so much hurt that i feel numb

i wonder how i got so good

at mixing foundations

not on my face 

but on my arms and legs

to hide the secrets i release on my skin

i cry because 

the scars will not hide themselves

and i cannot forget who i am

and what i have become

sweaters and long sleeve shirts

have become my heaven

i do not care what is in style

because cutting is "so totally not"

i do not question

why blood pouring out of me

as if i am releasing demons that

itch under my skin 

seems like my only remedy

the words "please kill yourself"

and "fat ugly worthless creature"

come from my own lips,

including others

i am bullied and i am too scared to tell

i am bullied and i have no idea

what torment the next three years of my life will bring