Maybe I'm different,
maybe I'm just like you.
Maybe I'm extremely flawed,
maybe I'm normal.

But I doubt it.

Urge tugs at my very soul,
ripping it apart,
piece by piece.
Screaming at me inside my head,
inescapable screams,
pushing me forward.
Unwanted tension in muscles,
crippling me,
forcing pain upon me.

Pain is everywhere,
in my mind,
in my soul,
upon my body,
a display of scars.
Never to go away.
They tell a story,
a story of my life.

Can you follow it?
Its as if they are words.

But I can't read it,
some days I trick myself,
and force my mind to believe,
I understand the story.

But what does the river,
running across my wrist mean?
or the letters on my breast?
Or maybe the circles on my legs?

What does it all mean?

Am I crazy?