self_harm Soma she put away her scissors her knife, her blades, tools once used - now trades them in for something a little harder scratches and claws soft flesh blood draws I, shaken, find her weeping tender "who could ever love garbage?" with body, with mind she looks but cannot find the love that I give in answer so slashes her fears anguish and tears I, weeping, bid her remember 180210 ... unhinged scar_garden morphed to new_ink 180210 what's it to you? who go blather from