I keep picking away at myself
Pick, pick
I peel back layers, small ones
One at a time, delicate
Peel back
In secret, I pick
In silence, I commit
Pick away the skin, at the scars
Peel back the layers
Of dry flesh
Like withered rose petals
I run my fingers over the grooves
Oddly satisfied, fascinated
And disgusted at the same time
I can’t stop, compulsively
Digging into my flesh
With my flesh
Picking at the cracks
Peeling and pulling back
Letting the petalled pieces of me
Fall to the ground, spellbound
Unable to pull myself out
Sometimes I draw blood
Wondering how I’ve gone this far
Wondering how far I’ll go
Break the habit, this dirty vice
Pick, peel, pull, despise
Condemning myself to end it
This time or next time or next time
How much more can my soul
Survive