cuts so deep it's like they're never going to heal.
pain so real, it remains unexplainable.
i've become this.. this cut, this wound.
all i know is pain; sharp breath, empty eyes, shaky hands.
if the cut was so painful, why continue to return?
it's all you know.
to risk infection to every bit of debris wafting through the air.
to risk the scar that will remain for a lifetime.
to risk continuous pain... for what?
nothing.
nothing but the cut, the infection, the scar, the pain, the familiarity.
so deep.. so terrifying... so alluring.
the cuts seem so light at first, they sting, they burn, but eventually they begin to heal.
the scab, the fragile, new-forming skin; the hardest part to resist.
as much as you know you should let it be, walk away, let it heal. say goodbye forever and let the tiny scar be a lesson; you can't.
you pick and scratch and dig deeper, trying to find the source. what makes it tick, what made it happen, how can you keep it going, how can you savor the feeling, since it's the only one you've ever seemed to know.
eventually that sting, that feeling, that pain that is so familiar, is gone.
all that remains is the mangled and misshaped scar, screaming to tell it's tale, but forever encased in silence.
