Scars

• James Hoang, Grade 6
• Poetry
• 2017

Here on my arm lies a mark that I made.
When I had enough, I cut with a blade.
I like the way that I cut off my skin,
And always think I always win.
Blood and Tears will fall long,
Cutting within myself will make me fairly strong.
I’m that depressed, I hate life.
The key to my very existence is a big keen knife.
A week later I got advice,
From that there would be no more slice.
I believe I was kept here for a purpose and I feel blessed.
And I truly realise that no one in this world is any less.
I won the battle of good versus bad,
I am still alive and no longer sad.
Here on my arm lies a mark of survival,
I got through my hate and beat my rival.