Shedding Light

Why do we only help when we realise that the victim will DIE if they don't receive help?

It's nothing to worry about,

They're just scratches I made

Yesterday, when I was really sad.

Look miss, they're not deep at all!

Not as deep as my other ones,

Hidden under my dress.

Those are the cuts, the deep ones,

I make when I'm angry at me, or

Even at the world.

These small scratches, they're 

Nothing to worry about.

They're not deep, they don't hurt.

But it's not a matter of deepness,

Or pain.

It's a matter of underlying problems.

These are just the physical proof

Of a hidden mask.

Those scars are just proof, 

Of a life gone terribly wrong.

But nobody cares enough, 

Nobody is courageous enough,

To delve deeper, and wonder why.

Those scars show help.

They hurt, they show pain,

They show beauty not seen within.

To cut is simply another way to feel.

To cut is to hurt for a little while,

To cut is to feel any other emotion,

Other than sadness, deep, dark sadness.

Scars showing hurt,

But showing the scars,

Cutting on wrists, stomachs, legs,

Are a sign that they want help, to be kept alive. 

So who will help now? 

Knowing that they will die if no help is received,

Who will help NOW?