You count the days.
For pride, for shame.
Since you last ran that sharp edge across your skin,
In abandonment of everything.
Each time you stop you promise you'll never do it again.
Ten days, well that's something.

It's obviously eating you inside.
I want you to be able to say you stopped with pride.
Two weeks since the last time.
You're addicted to slicing yourself and that's the crime-
Hurting someone so lovely.
She doesn't deserve it, trust me.

One month since you last cut into yourself.
Tell me, does the counting help?

Fifty days since you dug into your skin.
Then you're back to zero once again.