Why Self-Harm Is Not A Cry For Attention Poem by Laura Clayton

I wish I could peel off my scars and seal them in a manila envelope
Then hide it in the back of my wardrobe, along with all the sleeveless t-shirts that still have their price tags on
Just so I didn’t have to be reminded of my mistakes every time I look at my arms
Do you see me holding up a poster with “I SELF HARM” written on it?
Or holding out my severed arm to passers-by?
I don’t loop razor blades on a chain and wear them around my neck like a good luck charm
My parents brought me up by the Leviticus quote “You shall not make any cuts on your body…”
Now I carry this secret around with me like a Mormon carries his Bible
All year long, I wear the longest sleeves I can find
And still worry that people can see the lines across my arm through the thick fabric
You think I plaster this smile on my face because I am happy
But you don’t see the desperate, hurt look in my eyes
You think I am writing this poem for attention
But I am probably the only person who will ever see this