Last night I tore the skin off my hands with a potato peeler
As they say, time is a heeler
But seven years on and the only heeling I have seen is a new layer of skin on my external wounds.
I am a victim of my own downfall and my mind forever plays tricks on me
To just settle and let it be,
For I only hold rage for the things I have no control over
Sucking anger from my past because I can never lay it to rest,
Even the best of childhood is tarnished by the worst,
And it would be a curse if my future children followed in my own dirty footsteps
For I couldn’t find the words to persuade them that life is much better than this as I stroke their faces with the same hands that tried to end my own.
I am alone.
And addicted to the adrenalin of torn skin and external pain that outweigh the suffering within
A victim of me
And I will lose myself in a kitchen knife until the wounds no longer heal
But scare
And only then will it be when I run out of flesh to abuse
People start to question my sanity
For a harmer never tells unless the scares do.
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