the deep ones burn, bright red

fiery, taunting—your mark

scars, born of your hand

the others I carved on my own

picking at scabs

bleed, bleed—I bleed

the cycle ends today

scars to cover scars—no more

I will heal what I can

meet my reflection

recognize a new way 

the weight of wire hangers 

slaps to the face, scratches, punches

the words that cut 

I throw them all away