Loving the Pain

The pin.
It cuts,
deep into my skin.

The pain.
Flows out,
as does every sin.

The blood.
Runs out,
like a steady stream.

My mouth.
Is closed,
to hold back every scream.

The rush.
It comes,
and takes me far away.

The cut.
Gets worse,
each and every day.

The looks.
I get,
when people see my scars.

The relief.
I feel,
takes me very far.

The guilt.
Sets in,
as I try to stop.

The urge.
Rolls in,
to see that one last drop.

The pin.
It cuts,
deep into my skin.

The pain.
Flows out,
as does every sin.