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They can't really tell you what drove them to do it.
That first night the burns in the back of their mind.
The first rip, that first fall
Like, why a part of them had to bleed out the pain
What monster was too much; where was the line crossed, how far is too far past their breaking point
That this was the only cry for help they had left
And their scars tell us the stories that their words could never manage.
We label them as attention seekers, "Emo kids"
But really, how bad does someone have to feel to self mutilate their bodies
How dark must life seem for them
Living in a walking nightmare
Filled with shame and regret
Too embarrassed to even think about wearing something that may reveal a story, so secret
A whole new meaning to "wearing your heart upon your sleeve"
But to wear your conflicts on your skin
Every battle with their demons
Barely concealed by the frail fabric that they clog to
To keep out the memory
Of the metal, of the ice, of the iron
That they cling to, to save them from the ridicule
To keep their demons at bay in the backs of their mind
To save themselves from the pain our ignorant society is bound to lay on them
To keep off the labels
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