My Internal Torture
Picking
Scratching
Pulling
Tearing
The nail leaves two marks.
It stings slightly.
I know I did good.
I peel the broken skin away
and watch the blood rush.
Onto the next.
It won't stop.
I can't stop.
Leaving scars,
one right after the other,
like a circle,
this cycle is endless.
I put my hands to my face
dig in as deep as I can go,
and drag my fingers down.
Prying the flesh from my face,
I scream inside.
Nobody sees it
-the scars-
-the marks-
-my disease.
To them,
I'm narcissistically ignorant.
But if you focus like I,
you will be disgusted like I.
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