An itch I shouldn't scratch.

Skin bleeding—I don't care,

I fade into the pain—elated trance,

Before realizing the torment.

It's too late.

The damage is done,

Might as well keep scratching,

Despite the blood and

Broken skin.

I try to stop, clipping my nails

Short, but I'll still find a way.

I beg myself to stop.

Maybe one day.