This is a rather depressing poem that I wrote a while ago, back in the day when I used to self-harm.

I hid my hands behind my back,
So no-one else could see.
The blood and tears have stained my skin,
The guilt burns holes through me.

I dreamed that you came up to me,
One of my dark, cold days.
You placed a finger on my lips,
And softly to me say:

"My Dearest Love, look in my eyes,
Why do I see such pain?
The guilt I see inside of you,
It should not be contained."

A single tear slides down my cheek,
No other sign shows through.
I put my hands where all could see,
I could not lie to you.

You smiled with understanding,
And washed my stains away.
It seemed so effortless to you,
To wash such sins away.

But alas I awoke from my dream,
The stains are still on me.
So I hid my hands behind my back,
Not even you could see.