what used to happen before
when you said something
like a slap in my face
like yet another rain drop on the pavement

my wrists are like cracked sidewalks

the cuts become tattoos under my rubber bracelets
which i hide
from you of course

because you don't see
the large damage that you do to me
every time that you tell me how imperfect i really am
every time your words spit at me
about how fucking stupid i become

maybe i really am stupid,
maybe i won't ever know.

my wrists hold so much nothing in them.

just the blood that clogs up everytime i think of how the light of my life is so far away
and the things i could do if only
you could just
                                           -cut-
                                                          ~away~
                               my
s
t
r
i
n
g
s

i could breathe without having you on my back telling me that this one breath is incorrect and that it has to be shorter or else you're shorten it for me
can you really shorten my breath?
how about just take it all away like you've said you'd do so many times in my life whenever a flaw fell out from underneath my bandages

but no,
i won't let you
i have a light

its dim

very soft and fading

but that light
is going to become stronger and it will cut away the strings that tie me to you and hold me by the hands, legs, head, and tummy

you
cannot
control
me
forever

i said to Cupid before, and i will say to you now
i am not a plaything
i am not a toy

but i keep telling myself this and believe the complete opposite.

the blood, it rolls down my wrist

my wrists are .....



                                           cut.




and they are sacred.

just like me.

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