I won't be there

First I saw a tiny mark
Which soon became a scrath
Then it became a deeper cut
With several more to match!

I covered it with a plaster
Hoped it went away
But I couldn't help but etch again
Every single day!

Scratches turned to gashes
Gashes turned to floods
Soon I craved the feeling
Of the trickle of my blood!

But in the end it doesn't matter
I start to not even care
Because after todays carvings
Chances are I wont be there!