I look down at my wrists and see

A map of endless hurt that used to be.

The criss cross lines are carved into my flesh.

Reflecting on them brings the pain afresh.

It’s been two years since last a razor fed,

Two years since that skin was cut and bled,

But still the scars remind of pain so real

That cutting was the only way to deal.

It’s still so hard to daily fight the urge

To slice and thereby all my feelings purge

But I’ll hold on and fight for one more day

So every morning I’ll wake up and say:

I’ve won the battle, and I’ll win the war.

The razor cannot take away no more.

I’m stronger than I ever used to be.

Every day I’ll be a better me.