A Message

She wants to carve her message,
deep, into her thighs,
so deep, that the
blood will spill
forth her story,
of past losses
and victories,
shared wine and tears,
of loneliness
and hunger,
battles that loom
as a darkness
in her once bright future.

She wants to carve her
story deep, into her skin,
so deep,that it is no longer
a hidden parcel she must carry,
an exposition to a new life,
and the beginning
of understanding
to those brave enough
to open the package,
tied tightly with twine
and locked with a puzzle
she no longer remembers
how to open.

She wants to scrape
the remnants of herself
off of her skin,
so she is seen
for what she is,
a walking corpse,
dead for almost an eternity,
walking with a carved mask
to cover her face,
wanting to be seen,
but too afraid to
remove the simple
piece of wood that separates
her from the rest,
knowing that if she does
her message would be plain,
spelt in desperate letters
across her forehead,

“save me”.