Broken Skin

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The razors once held in my hand, the trickle of their blood.  Scars self-inflicted.  Each with its own story, voices crying out through broken skin, a shadow of this broken heart.  Shame a leach endlessly battling the survivor in me.  I know others see and wander, yet I’ve never been asked, except by one.  The “one” who showed me my scars are just that; scars.  Remnants of pain now brandishing perseverance and power. My testament to me; where I’ve been and where I am now.

WORTHY

“I did it.” I whispered.  As his soft touch tiptoed along the paths of my wounds. Instantly; quiet disintegrated.  An internal fight between telling lies or truth rang in my ears.  Buried in shame.  Embarrassed.  Afraid.  Certain he would flee.  Oh how I hate “them”, though hate is what created “them”.  Self-loathing stole my breath.  God how I wished I could turn back time. Terrified of rejection.  I imagined he already knew, but still I told him.  Vulnerability screamed at me to LET GO.  I held on to my tears until I could hold on no longer.  A decades worth of sorrow released.  Bearing shame and fear and self-disgust and self-hatred and blood and relentless pain and lies and worthlessness and apathy.  With no one else left to punish and hurt and destroy me…..I felt compelled to do it myself.  Believing that I deserved “it”.  The scars, simply an outward and UGLY reflection of my disgusting heart.

WORTHY

He didn’t leave.  No.  We lay that day as I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.  Walls crumbled.  He did not let go and neither did I.  So this is love?

I never knew.

WORTHY

Please, let them heal.  Forget the lies and piercing screams of shame.  You have nothing to be ashamed of!  You are here!  Stunning and worthy.  Your blood may never silence your doubters and destroyers.  No matter.  Their lies hold no power over the truth.  Believe in those who believe in you.  Believe in you and don’t never give up.  You are not alone.

WORTHY

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