My Scars

   Fresh, newly broken pieces of glass laid scattered all around my bedroom floor. I had no idea what was going on or how I really felt. All of my feelings of regret filled emotionless blood drops, which slowly formed and fell to the ground. They looked like rain drops as they slowly; almost completely motionless fell to the field of broken memories. This field was a terrorizing mirror into my past, and deep into my soul. Looking into it tortured me deeply.

   Instead of watching them fall, I watched the reflections of this mortifying horror movie. Everything seemed fake at that moment. I believed all I had to do was change the channel to stop every feeling I had, and every physical scaring I had forced upon myself. Because I was drifting this whole time nothing seemed to be real, made sense or bordered any logic. I drifted from my conscious set of beliefs, morals and values. They were all clouded by mysterious disregard for others, or my wants and real conscience. At that time I could not see through the glaze realm of fog. I never allowed any outsiders or influenced to enter my life.

   As the blood dripped, it took my previous values away from my soul. The blood dripped as I lost my real, righteous values and self-discipline. If only I had been in another state of mind, maybe a state of trust and belief, these actions would not have occurred. The blood continued to drip my needs and feelings onto the smashed glass. The only solution to seizing this madness would be to turn back the clock. I could have stopped this young, innocence of this misguided poor young soul.

   Every night, these nightmares follow me. I look at my fingertips and see scars. Then slowly continue up my arm, and see more scars. These are my scars of pain and hurt. If only I could have found another solution to this madness I could have dealt. My scars hunt me down, and torment me until this day.

   Tears run down my cheek, the warm of them gently on my cheek reminds me of the warmth that used to exist in my heart. My heart and soul are scarred just like body, and I form the biggest façade every single day. I can’t smile with out thinking of my past and how I ruined it.

Scars haunt me wherever I am; they follow me in the shadows in every shape, size and form. I miss the days before when I was at peace. Those days have sadly seized. Scars are all around, at every start and stop.

   Glass pieces and razor blades have cut my heart into shreds. Cutting from years before haunts me through the remaining scars, and larks behind the shadows to some day find me. Many guards have been formed in the back of my mind, to block the memory and feeling of pain. Recently, I have torn the walls down. Flooding of hurt has polluted my vision. Before, when the walls were full, I blocked the damage and fulfilled happiness. Now I use all my strength for just one smile.

   This is the day, and I have the tool. Or would this be a weapon? For me it is a tool to fix my pain, but to others it maybe a weapon to harm myself. About two inches in front of me is a fresh, newly sharpened, clean, and silvery smooth razor blade. This razor is my best friend, it is my only friend. What would you do?... This is my solution.