The Pleasure of Cutting

I cut my skin with shame, This anxiety I cannot tame. I look around frantically, Seeking a bit of sympathy. My reflection taunts me, Memories and feelings haunt me. I continue to cut into my flesh, The blood flows warm and fresh. I begin to weaken at a rapid pace, The pleasure showing in my face. Cutting is all that relieves my pain, It is all that keeps me sane.