It started so easy, and now it's hard to end
With every cut her truth is harder to tell
The scars on her arms will simply not mend
She lives in her own personal hell
It started to easy, just a scratch here and there
But the cuts became stabs and slashes
She covers them with a hint of despair
On her arms one hundred lashes
It started so easy, she just wore long sleeves
But now it's getting hot outside
She uses cover up and tries not to seethe
Someone questioned - she had to lie
It started so easy, but now she's so weak
Her solace this little bit of pain
When asked about it she's humble and meek
If she told what could she possibly gain?
It started so easy, but then the blade slipped
She's suddenly feeling quite faint
And then she realized if only she'd quit
She would not have to harbor restraint.
I can relate to this poem completely. I, too, was addicted to the pain of it. Not only did I do it to not focus on the pain of reality, but because it felt so good and it got me through the day.
I really like this one, it's sad but not at the same time.