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.