TrichotillomaniaA Poem by kaylaWhen I feel the anxiety my fingers go to my hair. They have a mind of their own and that's how they end up there. They grab a brown strand and twirl, then so innoceantly they tear. Inside myself I feel the release as I so carefully pull without care.
Many think it very strange that a beautiful girl like me would destroy her attractiveness, (her alleged outer beauty) they wonder to themselves "Oh, how on Earth could this be, that this young teenaged girl could purposely do such things?"
But I myself don't have to wonder, don't have to look very far to see all the stressors in my life that drive me to be "bizarre". And when I feel my stressors, my fingers will pick and pull and scar. There's nothing I can do about it, that is just how my coping skills are.
© 2012 kaylaAuthor's Note
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3 Reviews Added on July 14, 2012 Last Updated on July 19, 2012 |

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