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.