The bruise, it's spreading, all over my wrist.
It's telling the tales of what I fail to resist.
Purple and bloody, it resembles disease.
What nobody knows, it's my only appease.
And what of my attempts to change my ways?
To stop this $#!+ which is 'only a phase'.
It's just like before, I'm falling again,
In this dizzying spiral of passion and pain.
I need someone to catch me, I need to reach out.
I can't make myself do it, I'll whisper, not shout.