School counselor’s log
She cuts so she can bleed.
She says pain is only skin-deep.
Razor blades cut open the light.
Sometimes it’s an offending thigh,
Or wrist, though she doesn’t want to die.
She cuts so she can feel
Fetal moons and painted seas
Rise from flesh and blood, released.
Razor blades reflect the light,
As do pins, broken glass, and knives.
She says they call to her each night.
She cuts so she can see
If the blood against her blade is real.
How much deeper is too deep?
Razor blades let in the light.
Her scars are proof that she survives.
How can I take away this rite?
She cuts so she can heal.
Razor blades become the light.
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