Hidden Pain

I saw you today. The real you. The scars you hide. You think just because they aren't on the skins surface that some of us can't see you. I see you, because I am you. I know the self harm, the addiction to cutting your flesh because it calms your soul. But, but what about us that cut the soul to calm the flesh Those of us that float in the higher plains of the abyss. Where cutting the flesh doesn’t matter because we thrive on an higher realm and our souls are what absorb all the pain the is inflicted on us. We feel the pain so hard, we can literally feel the lashes of the whip on our bones. We wear these scars in our eyes. In our tones. In our smile. In the way we love someone or don't love them. Therefore, causing our cuts to be much more deeper then just the skins surface. Literallyfeeling our hearts tear a little at a time every time someone else just as fucked up as we are picks at our flaws and weaknesses, just so they can deal with their wounds a little easier. We feel that dagger in our sides, backs, hearts as they twist and turn, sliding deeper with every thrust. We carve out our little words of de-affirmation so that we never forget that feeling we felt when we were scorned, belittled, embarrassed, ripped open. I am that person, that person is me. I am the self harmed that hides the cuts within my body. Cut me open and you will see, all my little reminders of how unkind this world has been to my soul. My heart frayed at the edges and black in the center. All the little words that act as thumbnails, that when spoken I'll never forget that feeling. A smell that will forever remind me of the turmoil I have felt. I am the girl that was sexually, emotionally, mentally abused by those that she trusted and by those that she should have never trusted at all. I am that girl with no real friends. Everyone surrounding her, just in it for themselves until their need of her is fulfilled and then to the wayside she goes. The girl always left holding the shit end of the stick. The girl giving her all, just to never be good enough. The girl that can't stand being in her own skin, much less let anyone look at it, touch it, taste it. The constant question arising will this shit ever end? Will I ever be good enough? Only to realize in the end that she is who she is because she feels on a higher level because she deals on a higher level. She hasn't sat on the bench waiting to play the game. No, she has been in the ring for 10 rounds going head to head with life as it kicks her in the face time and time again. People in the crowd telling her to give up, Why are you still in the ring? Her looking them in the eye and smiling, as she bleeds internally, as she licks the blood off her fist, "because I am a warrior." While her scars are internal, she knows that these are scars that molded her into who she is and who she will be. What her legacy will be builtShe will take the good and release the bad. She will sleep for days to recover from her wounds, just to get back up and fight some more. So you…. Yes you…. Don't be afraid to show your scares. Embrace them, for they are beautiful and so are you.