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⚠️Trigger Warning: The following poem contains subject matter pertaining to self-harm⚠️

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