I didn’t think scars would appear
when i did that which i am not proud,
the blood brought fourth a sense of fear
as the flesh parted beneath the dark shroud.
I wish i had a way of stopping
when the thought crossed my mind,
but my muscle kept moving
and the flesh continued to unwind.
Happiness does not fill me
as i look back on this night,
only pain and sorrow
with the slightest delight.
Guide that inspired this poem:
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Cutting in a way does delight the people that do it. It delights us to see ourselves bleed and to know were getting hurt. Please read my poems and tell me what you think.