I keep picking them. I feel. Them cover my scalp.
Ruining. My hair.
I keep picking. I pick.
I pick. I pick.
I pick.
I pi.
ck.

It's my skill. My pastime. My excuse.
I pick. And when I pick it all off.
I scratch
at the underlying skin
until my fingernails **** blood.
I spend days,
years,
minutes trying to fix my hair so people
won't think.

I'm ugly or dumb or dumb and ugly
or like them,
My scabs won't(can't) heal
when I pick.
and scratch.