The Marks

The marks. So deep, but not lethal. So fresh, but barely bloody. So painful, but feels oh so good. The sting, so bad but so calming, it actually makes me happy. Just three small lines. Not much, but enough. Not messy, but so apparent. The little, but horrible sting. It's numbing. It makes the voices quiet. As long as there's pain, the shouting is silent. As long as there's a sting, the ache hurts less. As long as they are red, the hurt slowly fades. All of it of course comes back. Unless I keep doing it. The physical pain makes all the mental, stop. It's quiet. It's calming. As long as the three short lines; are painful, red, and oh so visible, to my all but numbing mind, everything is just gone. And it feels so good. The marks are happiness. The slashes are peace. The cuts; so numbing, and so amazing. I can never get enough.