In the darkness and despair, hidden from prying eyes,

Lies the secret of self harm, a painful compromise.

The blade becomes a friend, a twisted

kind of solace,

A way to release the pain, to find a

moments piece.

With each cut, a revaluation, a glimpse

into the soul,

A cry for help, a silent scream, a way to

gain control.

The scars that mar the skin, they tell a

story true,

Of battles fought within, of demons

overthrown.

But despite the temporary relief, the

scars remain,

A reminder of the pain, the struggle, the stain.

And thought the wounds may heal, the

scars will never fade,

A constant reminder of the choices that

were made.

Yet in the darkness, there is hope, a light

that shines so bright,

A chance to heal, to grow, to finally

make things right.

To reach out for help, to let someone in,

To break free from the chains, to let the

healing begin.

For self harm is not a weakness, it’s a

sign of inner strife,

A call for help, a plea for love, a struggle for a better life.

So let us stand together, let us break the chains,

Let us reach out a hand, and let healing

reign.