Constant...
overwhelming pain;
a mental condition,
deep inside my brain.
Life in turmoil,
feelings of alarm.
As I gravitate
to the comforts of self-harm,
Another cut,
into my vein.
My self-test for breaking,
that threshold of pain.
One more incision,
on my arm;
one more touch...
of self-harm.
Blood letting loose,
from my flowing vein.
Running down my arm...
like summer rain.
Each scar representing;
a stitch in time,
not shame,
nor a crime.
Another laceration,
the length of my thumb;
releases my pain,
and makes me numb.
Joshua Fegley
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/numb-30/
