Itch I'll Never Scratch *tw*

"Reach out for help!"

But every stone crumbles beneath my fingers.

Days, months- years later;

That same itch still lingers.

"Oh a cat got ya?"

The questions I still receive

"I used to hurt myself, but I don't anymore!"

Don't worry about me.

Barbed wire is the culprit

when I'm swimming in the summer sun,

But I'll have to tell them when they're older

About what I had truly done.

I can't quite figure out

What part hurts the most.

The fact the scars are there?

Or that they're fading- I suppose

I attached to the idea

That if I can still see scars,

It must be fine?

So why is it, when they fade

I want to redraw the line?

An ache, beneath my veins.

An itch I'll never scratch.

I'm as calm as a crashing ocean,

just water down my back.

So I picked up smoking,

As an even trade.

Give my lungs instead of blood,

An even compensation made.

I traded blades for booze,

And booze for drugs.

But at the end of every night,

It was never enough.

Lines on the table instead of

On my skin.

If you're snorting your new habit

Did you really even win?

"You can't keep doing this to yourself."

So they took that away too.

They can't understand why you're doing this.

How could you do this to you?

Now I can't smoke,

When I drink it makes it worse.

Living like this is empty,

Needing a vice is a fucking curse.

Now I have aches in my veins,

And an itch in my nose.

But I can't find a new vice,

We know how that goes.