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Literature Text
She carves ‘fuck up’
Into her arm
So everyone she meets for the first time
Will see it
And know
to stay away
She carved into herself
Because the body is a canvas
Someone once said
So she thought
She might as well take the broken thing
And make it beautiful
for someone
[even if that someone wasn’t her
and may never be found
it didn’t matter, really]
She was a scared broken child when he found her
He was a paranoid pyromaniac when she remembered him
They didn’t fit;
they fought
they survived
eventually
Into her arm
So everyone she meets for the first time
Will see it
And know
to stay away
She carved into herself
Because the body is a canvas
Someone once said
So she thought
She might as well take the broken thing
And make it beautiful
for someone
[even if that someone wasn’t her
and may never be found
it didn’t matter, really]
She was a scared broken child when he found her
He was a paranoid pyromaniac when she remembered him
They didn’t fit;
they fought
they survived
eventually
don't come any closer
you'll be caught
Comments3
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From the very first stanza, I could tell that this was another no-bones-about-it honest poem, and like the last one I read, it gets to me. I’ve read lots of poems about self-harm (cutting, binging, pill-popping, etc.), but seeing your body as a canvas and carving things into it to convey messages, to make it beautiful – wow. This cuts deep. Excuse the pun but it does. The part at the end, about the pyromaniac, amplifies it. Misery sure loves company. You have to fight tooth and nail to get out of it.