Scabs

I cause myself more pain just to end my other, that is how i feed
i pick old scabs, open them up. i let them bleed

i feel nothing as i watch it flow from my skin
i look for another scab to pick and let the blood flow begin

why i do this, i am not sure, but it helps subdue my suffering
i pick the one no one see, the one i am covering

there is not enough scars, there is more pain in my heart
to many scars on it, it has now become a work of art

put together in a demonic fashion that has labeled me a sinner
forcing me to fall down, never letting me be a winner

my scabs bleed, and i let them dry, as they turn dark red
i look in my memories thinking of how i have already bled

i cover them up, letting no one know, as i try to forget
as i walk bye trying not to remember, but i haven't forgotten yet