Tally Marks

Each and every tally mark

Etched into my wrist

Is an ever-changing memory

Of the clues and hints I missed.

Some are from the insults

And dirty looks I got.

Others are sharp memories

of everything forgot.

Condemning quiet whisers,

Insulting comments loud,

Complaining of my person

The badge that I wore proud.

Each and every tally mark

Is each and every sin.

And each and every blood stain left–

A battle I couldn’t win.

Every time my blood’s let loose,

I revel in the pain.

Though, another broken memory’s

The only thing I gain.

Perhaps tomorrow’s my goodbye.

Perhaps it’s my last day.

I hope that you will feel the guilt

In each and every way.