To the Teenage – girl at McDonalds

I saw it….
The way those deep and dark engravings sat scattered across your wrist the way your brown hair sat across your shoulders
I wondered what made you want to cut
What made you want to bleed out the pain
Rip apart skin
I don’t know you
But I had a friend just like you
Her smile would stop you in your tracks, cause your tongue to slip and slide in trying to say hi and make you forget your own darkness
She was  bit of heaven upon this chaotic Earth that penetrated the hardest of hearts
She was a firecracker
Always on fire and sure to shine bright like the moon at night
But she was hurting like sharp blade piercing skin
Cracking it open to bleed out the pain from within
We sat there
The Fall of 2005
Her wrists facing upward towards me upon her thighs with eyes as big as the heart she held deep inside
Her eyes had sung the song of hurt as she told me
As she told me that the way her birth was simply an accident
An event not planned to take place
According to her mother
She was the result of too many drinks and a night of partying
And so she would cry
Bent across skin
With a blade
Ready to penetrate
Every mark was an engraving of the hells she’s been through
Every moment she sat dying another death with another blade rethinking the mistake she was
And so
She would carve
Etching into skin the mistake she had been
Over and over again
But she smiled a lot
A lot like you
She would smile
Giggle behind the bloody pain
And cradle herself within her own space
So I wonder who did it
Who made you feel the need to slice a part of you away
To dive beneath skin and tissue
To die multiple deaths in seclusion

What happened?
Who did it?

Because I know that cracked skin and blade is only half of the pain
The other half is realizing you’re worth more than the pain

But I love you even though I don’t know you and we have never met
Just know that I saw you
And I saw the marks you left
Maybe if you saw the person that did this to you
You will show them
You will give them the wrist you frequently imprint with your pain and let them know that they’ve killed you too times to count and that you’re worth more than cracked skin.
You’re whole.
You’re worth being whole


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