I am Excoriation

Can't focus.

Hand drifts.

Touching hair.

Making rips.

The bumps are triggers,

they make me manic.

If I can't pick,

I start to panic.

I don't know why,

but I can't make myself stop.

There's a hair always to pull

or a bump to try to pop.

Sometimes I make them up,

in my own messed up head.

Blood creeps from my wounds,

and my nails end up red.






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