My flesh will tell you a story,
of a man filled with self loathing.
Deep scars across my legs,
for never being good enough.
My own self mutilation.
No one to blame but me.
Still, much as I love my scars,
I wish no one else could see.
For they cause pain and problems.
Even doctors rush to judge.
“This person is not sick,
he’s just crazy.”
I am not crazy, just in pain.
It’s a deep horrible misery,
just inside my brain,
and it never goes away.
But for drugs and the knife,
it’s a struggle to get through life.
Yet I learn to be stronger,
every single day.
Medicines and therapy.
A whole team to make me well.
They’ve shown me what I can do,
when I put my mind to it.
Now it’s been months,
since I held the knife.
Bit by bit, day by day,
I’ve been taking back my life.
Poetry
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Life is a struggle, but we all keep fighting the inevitable — Death.
I felt your pain while reading. Thanks for sharing. Hope life is better for your now.