It's summer and I'm wearing
jeans and long sleeves,
taking deep breaths in
whenever I feel the cool breeze.

I can use the cold ocean air
as an excuse,
but when we leave,
it'll be no use.

My whole body is trashed
with cuts and more.
I carved words, names,
and today I'm really sore.

My body is littered,
and I'm not alright.
I'm trying to be though,
I'm putting up a fight.

I have a family now,
a reason to try.
They can tell
when I lie.

When I say I'm fine,
they know I'm lying,
but they tell me it's okay
as long as I'm trying.

I'll promise you,
say I'm fine,
tell you I'll be okay
over time.

You tell me I'm perfect,
and don't need to change.
We all know that for me,
okay is far out of range.

Just look at my body,
all cut and bruised.
It looks like a chainsaw
is what I used.

I do try,
I promise I do.
I'll keep on trying
as long as I have you.

I'll fight off the urges,
scream until my throat is sore.
I'll beg for release,
and then cry some more.

I'm two months, thirteen days sober.
See? I do try.
When I said that,
it wasn't a lie.

I'll be okay,
I just need time.
One day,
I really will be fine.

Just stay by my side,
please, never go.
What will happen if you leave
is something I don't want to know.

As long as you're here,
so is my strength.
To be okay,
I'll go to any length.

My niece, my sister,
and my brother, I need you.
If you're here,
quitting is something I can do.