Veins

June 30, 2016
By Anonymous

Everyone stares at them
in quiet horror
but they're to taken aback
to say anything about it.

Crimson lines
of horizontal and vertical evidence
running up, down, and across
my arms, thighs, sides.

Until the day
someone took a moment to ask
why do you do that to yourself
with a quiet subtly that could evoke an avalanche.

A well of tears brewed in my eyes
Because I trembled as I spoke
he was in my veinsĀ 
a cascade of tears fell in a torrent down my cheeks
this is the only way to get rid of him.


The author's comments:

In the last stanza, I feel that the subject He could be confused with a boyfriend. In my mind, when I wrote this, i was thinking about my rapist. He was in my veins, the memory coursing through my body, and the only thing that really helped was cutting. I realize the danger in this now, and I have stopped even though I still struggle with this addiction. 

I am going to leave this the way it is though, I like that it isn't spefic with who I am talking about, and that it could be anyone that I am talking about. I think it makes it more relatable to other people, which is kind of the goal here. 


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