Warning: This is pretty much about self harm… idk the prompts made me do it...
For Camp Potter: Arts & Crafts
"Hush, hush" mirror, sleep
Word count: 263
I must not tell lies
That's what it says,
and you've been trying not to stare,
trying not to think about what it must feel like
to c/a/r/v/e a statement into your skin,
into the back of your own hand.
But Uncle Harry doesn't have a clue.
Tells you that =scars= are just a story,
just a mark of where you've been,
nothing to be [ashamed] of.
But he has no idea
just how many words you've
swallowed like knives
carving your story on the ||inside||
where no one can see.
Not even you.
You can't bear to look in the mirror anymore,
can't stand to see the picture perfect mask
that is Dominique Weasley
Beautiful?Collected?Happy?
Dominique Weasley
who keeps her story under lock & key
And if you were to \open up/
if you were to promise you'd never tell a lie,
you'd tell a fucking tragedy
of a family torn apart
by misconceptions and misunderstandings
and secrets behind not quite closed doors.
So you find your courage on the tip of a blade
against the blank page of the skin on your wrist,
tell them you haven't been anywhere
tell yourself it's all going to be "okay" once it's over,
sing a lullaby you made up on the spot
like you do everything else.
And you never could carry a t.u.n.e,
but whatever helps you sleep at night.
Right?
"Hush, hush, now, love.
It's only a scratch,
only a scratch…"
It's just a story, after all,
a could be beautiful tragedy.
And tragedies all end the same way
don't they, Dom?