i hide the cuts
and call it healing.
i smile enough
to look like feeling.
i bled to feel,
then felt too much.
so now i flinch
at even touch.
no big event,
no cry for aid.
just pain, then choice,
then steel, then blade.
the scars are thin,
but memory lingers.
i still see red
between my fingers.
they call it pain,
i call it mine.
i earned the blood,
i crossed the line.