if i could bleed right in front of your eyes in order for
you to see the (numb) pain i go through in attempt(s)
to be perfect then i would fill buckets full and die from
loss of blood because that's how much you mean(t)
to me and how much this hurt(s) even after so long.
would you like for me to go back to the way i was a
year ago? i'll gladly carve too many will-be scars into
my arms as tears run silent down my face. or would
you rather watch as i slide a finger down my throat and
cough up all the imperfections? it seems that tears are
never enough anymore and that scars are too little to
even try to explain all the ways you hurt me. i promise
to bleed even more if you prefer (especially if it would
not find me behind walls, suffocating as i choke on tears
and muffle answers to a stranger who could never begin
to have understood me (it only left me to bleed more).

even if you swore to me that you cared, i don't think
i would believe you because silence carves wounds
into my skin that the blades could never do (and my
deepest scars came in february after she b r o k e the
raw silence and told me the things i want(ed) to hear
from you). tell me that it's okay to b r e a k (again)
because i can feel myself s h a t t e r i n g to pieces
and my life c r u m b l i n g into (nothing but) dust.

i can't even look at you when i see you at school,
let alone be near you or what it even takes to speak
your name without the scars burning and you don't
know what it's like to be numb and bleeding because
these scars shape who i am and what i could never be.
and you have never cared for me in the same that you
could never understand (everything i'm hurting myself
for just for the sake of hoping that one day, this will be
over with and i will no longer have the need to bleed).