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⚠️Trigger Warning: The following poem contains subject matter pertaining to self-harm⚠️
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So I’ve seen
all these videos on Insta
of girls derma-planing their faces.
I’m thinking--
wow
my face
must be hairier
than I realize
and that I should probably
buy some of those razors
with my employee discount
and that if I was still sixteen,
I’d probably use them
to remove the hair from my face
and then cut myself immediately
afterwards.
I know there are some people
who are gunna read this poem
and assume I still slit my wrists
when things get bad
because they are
incapable
of comprehending my growth.
So I guess I wanna say
that I don’t slit my wrists
anymore.
It’s just that
my brain still
goes there sometimes,
ya know?
Image Source:
Artist: Qieer Wang