~
⚠Trigger Warning; the following poem contains subject matter pertaining to self-harm ⚠
~
I am sitting in
ninth grade English class
(or maybe it was Social Studies?)
My fingers creep
beneath the desk,
past a mausoleum
of stale chewing gum
until they grasp at
something frigid and metal.
Kilt pin unhooked,
plaid parted,
I reach for mid-thigh.
Pulse hammering in my veins,
and my countenance an
exhibition of nonchalance,
I probe-gouge-drag
it across my skin.
From my mouth,
a quiet yelp.
The girl next to me asks,
"are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
Image Source:
Neurotic study session gif. (n.d.). [image] Available at: https://br.pinterest.com/pin/357754764148105842/# [Accessed 4 Feb 2020].
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