It all started from a young age. The black ink had a hold on me, the devil's been
playing for keeps.
As I child I was often told of all my flaws
Physically I wasn't desirable
Mentally I wasn't bright enough
I had no one my age to talk to
and when I did speak no one registered my truth
they simply took it with a grain of salt.
It got to the point where one day I decided to change
However, in that process people got mad at me
and the perception I held of myself began to worsen.
I was as a child told from the start that there was something wrong with me
I had to change or else the world would be cruel to me.
Yet, it wasn't considered that all their harsh words and whispered comments were my
twisted reality.
Those nasty words painted on my skin and then
I saw it.
It was a little black dot right on my wrist
I didn't think much of it at first
and it's always the little things that begin to manifest into much bigger problems.
All the nights of crying myself to sleep
All the countless anxiety induced headaches
from the repeating words
all the days of praying to God that I could be someone else.
Someone with pretty hair
Someone who was thin, with straight white teeth
someone who wasn't me.
One day while in the process of cutting my hair I saw it
It was no longer a dot it became a curving mark.
I didn't understand.
Why was this on me?
I remember showing my mother and she screamed.
From that day on I was told to cover it and not talk about it to anyone.
It was shameful to have such a mark.
The white line that was once present on my right arm was being covered
I was becoming one with the ink.
People made faces
I brought shame
and if I was lonely before
I was now drowning in isolation.
This was the beginning of my fall
from grace to the grave.