Masked Pain

You turn your skin into

a private canvas.

Provoking labels

Emo

Crazy

Stupid

Depressed

You seek attention

Crouching behind a facade.

You know that boy with the smile on his face?

The one who wears bright colors

and a sweater on hot days?

The boy you would

describe as “normal”?

Take a closer look.

Lift up his sweater sleeves.

Surprised with what you see?

Search his backpack.

Know what you’ll find?

A whole arsenal of self-destruction.

Nails

Screws

Paper Clips

A shiny New blade

All instruments of self-mutilation.

All leaving a different form of artwork on his skin.

Each painting a different picture.

Started with just one cut

to ease the pain.

A line of Crimson appeared.

Peaking from inside his skin.

Trickling from his ice-cold veins.

Making its inevitable escape.

Seeing the blood,

caused an adrenaline rush.

Blood pounding

Heart-racing

Oh what pleasure!

A little deeper next time.

The light crimson color

soon turns a deep-rich red.

Flowing softly from his skin

like a lazy river.

Cutting reminds him

that his heart isn't so cold.

So, you want to know his story you say?

Just read the words he wrote and left behind.

No, not the ones on paper,

but the ones written on his very own skin.