17.Blood

I bite,
I pull,
I tear,
At my lips
And my fingertips.
The blood pools,
It stings,
But it cools
My thoughts.
I hurt myself
In a way
Everyday.
I only pray
That it does not
Get worse
Only better
Just as I wish
For you.
The blood I see
And taste
Doesn't bother me
As much as it used to.
It comforts me
Which scares me.
This isn't how
It's supposed to be.
The pain stays
Even as I sit here
And type this
Because,
They still sting,
The fresh ones.
Because,
Even without the scars,
I hurt myself
And what I feel then
Is real.