The Truth

My whole life has been filled with anger
Along with sadness, betrayal, and more
Last year I started cutting myself
Thinking it was cool to be "one of them"
Of course, no one keeps to themselves
So the counselor found my problem
Her threats went out to call home
Or seek psychiatric help
Nothing really happened
Because she knew my depression spoke the truth
I ended my cutting and it's been nearly 9 months since a blade has touched my skin
I see some still cutting away at their bodies
Seeing the scars cover their arms and legs
I wish my life would change so I'd no longer hear their problems
But they still remain
I wish for once I could rub that blade across my skin to take away my depression
But the looks in the eyes of those who care
Make me hold back.