Temptation.
I needed to feel it again.
Urge.
To help me to erase.
Craving.
To stop my mind concentrating on the thought of you.
I wanted to feel the sharpness again,
Tearing apart the untouched tissue upon my arm.
Blood begins to bubble from the fresh new wounds,
A deep dark red that represents my anger, and my overpowering sadness.
The stinging pain overcomes me,
Allowing me to forget,
All that pain you made me feel,
That pain you don't regret.
'Just one more'
I tell myself.
But I continue to keep slashing at my skin.
Soon enough the pain evaporates,
And I eventually become numb.
Numb with sadness and shame.
The room begins to blur,
As more tears form in my eyes.
I glance down to see the damage I've caused,
The deep wounds filled with memories that haunt me in the darkness.
My body is overwhelmed with guilt.
That is my temptation.
To stop myself from thinking of you.
But if you could see the pain you've caused,
And the scars of proof that are visible on my arms,
That I dishonorably and humiliatingly cover underneath my clothing,
Would you regret all that suffering you put me through?
Or would you turn a blind eye in disbelief?
Which I know is what you'd rather do.
