This One

This one was the first one, 
I wasn't feeling well,
But it made me feel something,
From nothing at all.
This one was when I thought about death,
When thoughts of my dead family,
Filtered  through my head.
This one was when we thought my "dad" was ill,
I just couldn't deal with it,
Like I can't even still.
This one was when I though I lost you,
Thought I lost it all,
This whole part of my arm is from when I started to fall.
This one is from the time I was kicked off of cheerleading,
Every night I would cry and cut because I had lost all feeling.
This one was from when I couldn't get to sleep,
The emptiness in side made if impossible to count sheep.
This one was when I truly lost you,
And now I am a slave,
Surrounded by this damp red fluid,
Trapped within this cave.
Every one a different reason,
Every scar a different memory,
These scars are the windows to my soul,
The only way to see inside of me.
Even though there is a different reason for each and every mark,
One thing remains the same,
One similarity between the scars.
I felt alone,
Isolated,
Devoid of life,
Empty,
And depressed,
I reached for the knife.
Not because of you,
Not because of me,
Because my feelings got the best of me and I could no longer breathe.
The number of scars you can see is nothing compared to those you can't,
And I've fallen so far down now,
That even if you offered I would not take your hand.
You walked away  when I needed you the most,
And when I'm cured it will not be you to whom I make the toast.
If and when I want to stop this bloody life I lead,
I will not do it for you,
I will do it for me.
And everyday I see the scars,
It will remain the same,
This one meant this,  
And that one meant that,
In theory each one has a purpose, and,
In that respect,
A name.