I use to cut. Blade against skin. Slash versus slash. Blood dropped. I use to make a mess, but it was ever so gentle. I only saw it.

What have I done to myself? What have I done to my precious skin? Another scar. More tears. I am not someone's prize. I lost a battle I long gave up on. I am me.

I am use to blood. When it should be taken from a needle, I take it in two seconds with a blade. The blade.

Your gut speaks to you to cry yourself to sleep; A gentle whisper. Every pain replaced with a tear. Every other heart build with a fear; Whimper.

Fear can not be replaced with the darkness of a heart whose head is migrated deep down with a smear ever so gentle, but yet, real.

Listen.

Do you hear the screams saying wish us low, wish us at night, I come upon you as you so doubtfully repent!

No savior. Forgive those who hurt you, but no pain is thrown their way. I only can forgive. My heart won't forget.

I wished upon stars to make things better, but I endured the worst. I endured you. This is my perspective, your perspective, Our perspective.