What am I supposed to do when,
my friends are friends with world’s darkness,
worst enemies to themselves.
i don’t understand how you can
feel this way; is it contagious?
maybe, I don’t understand, but you’re not
the only one with problems, so why do you
cut?
it makes me feel like I am cutting,
thousands of needles scrape
scrape
scrape
against my skin
and no feeling in my feet,
im floating, backwards, the blood
draining from my body.
fingers frozen, cold; is the AC on too high?
does it feel good to feel this way?
to feel such pain?
it hurts me.
you don’t deserve this,
no one does.
what happened to you?
you’re the same, on the outside,
hide your scars, your misery.
I can feel it. don’t you worry, I know.
sorry is a stupid word,
five letters of nothing.
but im sorry if I ever made you
feel alone, if I was uncaring,
foolish, selfish
-made you sick.
im sorry if I contributed to your downfall,
or your scars.
before you take that swiss army knife
before you make that umpteenth mark,
remember this, and it holds true,
pain may build character,
but it destroys, too.
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