Pain Carves Its Name In My Skin

I guess I should explain that I was a bit upset when I wrote this, so sorry if it's really bad. Anywho, hope you enjoy!

Do you ever just feel empty,

like you just want to feed on

Other people’s happiness?

Do you ever feel unfulfilled?

But that’s not really it.

It’s more the underlying

Scent of pain that wafts

In shimmering clouds

‘round and ‘round

My chest, which houses my

Heart, so full of suffering and

Aches, so full of pain.

And the hypothetical gears

In that hard-working organ

Grind, and release the sounds of

Mechanically manufactured

Pain meds, just for me,

Because what sustains the injury

Also makes it somewhat

Better at certain times.

But that’s only the occasional

Band-Aid when it’s particularly

Bad, or when it twinges in

Response to guilt and the rare

Circumstance of the people

I love being hurt.

Then the pain flares up with a

Vengeance. It chases me ‘round

The yard that is my mind, and

Corners me, so that I’m trapped.

And then the pain descends,

It carves its name into my skin,

Leaves scars on my pale, fragile

Forearms, and exposed chest.

It digs its cruel claws into my skull,

Letting me know that the

Flesh and blood of my weak human

Self is barely enough to sate

It for the time being.

And so I beg for the mercy of

A creature far beyond my control,

Something neither alive nor dead.

A thing that has terrorized

People for eternity,

And will continue to do so.

It has been our greatest opponent

From the beginning of time.

It has sunk into our society,

Set its sharpened fangs to our

Bare and open souls, it has

Incorporated itself into our very being.

It resides in all of us.

We all, in our own ways,

Are in,





The End

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