Marks hidden

First day that deserved a cut.

Inside thigh. Marks that get hidden.

Indeed this is a special day. One I have to etch inside me.

I hurt but I am so numb. No pain. Just blood. It was worth it.

All my steps. All my measures just place themselves down in the dirt.

There should be no place for me but sheol. For I am just like my father. And I danced upon his grave.

Will I disappear? No. Just be.

Cutting wI'll maintain space. But life must go on.

And I am moving.