Venting

The poem I just posted was something I wrote to a friend about 3 years ago. She worked up the courage to let me in and show me the scars on her wrists. Me being 16 at the time could not possibly fathom that a person would deliberately hurt themselves (most likely because of my fear of blood). I reacted in a poor manner and became angry with her. I did not understand why a person would do such a thing. We never spoke of her cutting again. I should’ve been there for her in her time of need, but instead of being a friend I made her feel even more isolated. I never gave her that poem.

Fortunately by the grace of God she became better and now 3 years later I will be attending her wedding very soon. Her life could’ve gone down a very different path if she kept hurting herself the way she did. I want to apologize for acting that way 3 years ago, but I don’t want to spoil her happiness by bringing up a chapter in her life that was filled with depression and hurt. 

That is why I feel that people should educate themselves on not only self harm, but any other mental illness as well. People shouldn’t question why they do it, but focus on a way to help them through it. I regret how I handle the situation and I am very thankful my friend realized that cutting isn’t the answer.  

Scars

She writes and paints
She is quiet and reserved
She obeys without complaints
And seems a bit unnerved

Her beauty is only seen by others
She never brags nor boasts
But her eyes are deep blue like her mother’s
And those eyes are what I love the most

But for some unknown reason
A razor is the only thing that makes her feel good
It only gets worse season after season
Maybe she is misunderstood

Her scars do not go unseen
But her friends don’t know what to say
She deserves to be treated like a queen
Even though she thinks there is no other way

She needs to know if she is ever feeling low
No matter what the time of day
Her friends will always be there and we love her so
That is a fact and there is always some other way