Addicted

I close my eyes.
My finger trails along the little trickle of blood that I have made.
I smile inside
Addicted to the feeling that it gives.

I dig it down.
Watching the point pierce through my pale skin.
I feel on drugs;
Can't concentrate on anything but the sharp pain.

My head spins around
as the skin subsides under the point.
My worries go.
No fear, just pain.

I know what I'm doing.
But I'm unable to stop it.
I crave the feeling.
I crave my veins thumping under my fresh cuts.

I know this is wrong.
But I'm addicted to the peace in my mind
when the point digs right down.

I stop for a second, staring at my arm
Grasping the craziness of what I've done...

just for a second.

I try not to cry
at my worries, at my poor heart, at what I've become.

My fist clenches around the object.
It goes deeper
Soaked in the loneliness, the anger
the pain.

I see the darker skin underneath.
And again.
And again.

I drop the object and clasp my hand around my wrist.
It stings...
I grab my sweat band, forcing it over the raw wounds.

I fight back tears.

I'm addicted...
To the pain.
To the peace of mind.
To becoming everything I used to hate...
i'm addicted.