Trigger Warning: Self-harm
Bare-bodied, he stood in front of the mirror. Each cut narrates its story to the other. He quivered as he got up from bed; ready to cut one more time.
How deeply would the blade cut through his skin this time?
How much would his body be willing to endure?
He resisted it, he pulled away, unfortunately, the blade had him in a trance, it refused to let him go.
"No!", He screamed in agony as his thoughts cornered him. Self-doubt, hate, worry began piling on him one after another. Worthlessness stood at the corner witnessing his thoughts get the best of him. "Step aside", she said and placed the blade in his palm.
Three cuts on his ankle, each sobbing about how worthlessness created them. How she blended loneliness, lack of control, and emotional pain into creating each scar.
He muzzled their voices deep within his shoe, they were gagged by his socks. He locked the venomous creator of the voices in the deepest part of his brain and went about his day.
As if he didn't fight a battle,
As if those thoughts would never creep up again,
As if each scar did not have a story to tell and if they were ever given a chance, they would yell at the top of their lungs.
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