Waterfall

I shed cells but have the same bones.  I tear my hair out to forget my past but the pores left behind can't be scrubbed off painlessly.  I pushed a rock into my voice box so I wouldn't repeat my mistakes, limiting what I put out to the air for those to take.  I drip ink into my eyes so as to not forget I am just human and I make it obvious when I cry. I interlocked my wrists around a boulder at the bottom of a cliff in the ocean with a twine cord because I crave to be held.