Sometimes

Sometimes I wonder why I'm here,
and what the purpose of being is.
I think maybe I might play a part in a greater plan,
but I don't know what it is or how it works.

Sometimes I think about self-harm
and wonder who and what I hide my scars from,
and why I did it,
and if I've really stopped.

Sometimes I wonder about myself,
how I ended up this way,
what I've pushed and thrown away,
and if I'll ever get it back.

Sometimes i think about suicide;
whether it's the way out - if there is one -
if it would hurt to die,
and whether I could ever do it.

Sometimes I think about pain -
how I'm no stranger to him,
but I've grown to fear, respect and
embrace him for who he is.

Sometimes, I just sit and wonder why.