A paper cut, a minor fray,

A reason to bleed, to hurt, to sway,

From the pain of everyday life,

A desperate attempt to take control, to thrive.
A broken glass, a spilled cup of tea,

A justification to cut, to set me free,

From the anguish that I couldn't define,

A misguided attempt to soothe my mind.
But with each cut, a scar would remain,

A constant reminder of the pain,

A symbol of the struggles I couldn't face,

A cry for help, a desperate, silent pace.
One day, I hit rock bottom, it's true,

I realized that I didn't have to hurt anew,

I sought help, I found a guiding light,

Therapists, a friend, a beacon in the night.
With time, with patience, with love and care,

I learned to cope, to heal, to repair,

The wounds that I had inflicted on my skin,

The scars that would remain, a reminder to begin.
I learned to breathe, to meditate, to calm,

To find solace in the present, to let go of the balm,

I discovered that I was stronger than I thought,

That I could face my fears, my doubts, my faults.
The minor inconveniences still came and went,

But I no longer let them dictate my intent,

I chose to rise above, to find a way,

To heal, to grow, to seize a brand new day.
My scars will always be a part of me,

A reminder of the journey I've been through, you see,

But they no longer define me, no longer control,

I am free, I am healed, I am whole.