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.
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