Sacred Scars

Just deep enough to know I’m still alive

Just deep enough to allow for an evident flow

Just enough blood on my hands to make me feel in control

but not enough to classify me a murderer

A cut here, a cut there,

my little game of hide and seek

Hiding treasures in places they won’t see

No one cares to know the tale,

to know that I hurt me because you were hurting

While you learnt to get high, my world got low

It started when I was still living on laps and mastering walking on my own

You got help but still you relapsed

and when I get old enough to notice which side was the sharp end

I found a new way to let the pain out

If only I could shut out their whispers

They called you spoiled and pampered,

when all you were was ill

and I was too young to do anything

We are blessed to birthed by a nurse,

because after you were diagnosed and they made their speedy exit

She became the only family we needed to exist.