little bumps appear
on my sensitive skin;
harmless at first
it's dry
my sensitive skin;
it itches
and i scratch
my mind screams at me to stop,
my hands
oh they move on their own accord
as if they have a
life of their own.
restlessly, they scratch,
a wave of pleasure overwhelms me; and
the itch temporarily disappears
it's dry
my sensitive skin;
it cracks open
pain bursts forth
but nothing beats
the hiss that comes next ;
when i look at my nails
and all i see is red
followed by a stinging pain
regret rolls in waves
as i succumb once again; to that temptation
that temporary pleasure
now,
being forced to deal with the aftermath
once again
and the ugly dark scars
and the pain for the next few days
patiently waiting for it to heal and
the sting ; as i apply more cream
all is well
till those
little bumps appear
on my sensitive skin;
harmless at first
all over again
YOU ARE READING
words from my muses
Poetryfor the thoughts i struggle to express; or for the times spent awake at 2am . or for the little stories of my life, or ones made up in my mind . #1 on rambles 7/6
