Were Diffrent

Some people cry when they hurt.

Some people confide in another.

Some peole try to resolve their dispute with the other,

and some may try to resolve it within themselves.

Some pretend to be strong and hide it,

there are also ones who don't know what to do.

But then again, there are those that are like me.

I cut.

It's not for attention,

I'm not trying to be fake.

It's not because other people do it,

or because it's "in."

I do it because,

it's my way of life.

It's my own way of feeling powerful,

in control.

It's not punishment for myself,

it's to make me stronger.

It's my way of knowing that I'm still alive.

It releases so much stress and emotional pain,

it calms me.

It's like my medicine,

my caffine or sugar.

It keeps me going.

That's my way of expressing the pain I feel inside.

It's so reviving to see the red against my skin,

overwhelming to know I actually followed through.

It's the satisfaction of knowing I've lived another day,

lived long enough to spill more blood.

It's nice to know I have somethng to turn to,

when everyone else turns away.

It's always there,

something for me to take advantage of.

The blade calls my name every night,

begs to be picked up.

Why are we discriminated so much?

We just have a different way of expressing emotion.

We're different,

so what?

We don't judge you,

look down on you for the way you express yourself.

So why does everyone pity us?

I think we've proved we're stronger,

we can take pain.

We're not afraid to suffer,

not scared to bleed.

We may hide what we do but we're proud,

the scars are ou history.

Every cut really does tell a story,

physical pain of the past.

And it's all because people won't listen...