A cool edge against soft skin,
A sharp pain and then the release
That always keeps me coming back.
The source of my guilt, pain, comfort.
The source of awkward moments
And embarrassing questions.

My not-so-secret secret;
My self-destruction,
The thing I cling to
when the world swirls around me.
This is my hazardous safe place.

I am the stereotype, the stigma.
I am that “punk” you think you know.
I am a cutter, but most of all
I am a human being. Just like you.
 
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