My Writings Of Self Harm

My Writings…


7. Summer Barbecue

Every summer

Her family had a barbecue

To celebrate her birthday

And every summer

She would receive hugs

They made her grimace

As hands made contact with her arms

And every summer

They would ask

"Why the sweater?"

And every summer

She would turn away and whisper

"I was cold."

And every summer

She smiled a sad smile

When she blew out the candles

And wished to die

And last summer

She had tears in her eyes

As she said

"I love you," and "See you soon"

But this summer

There was no barbecue

Because this summer

There was no birthday

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