Sick Pleasures

I promised I would stop.

I promised I would quit.

But yet,

Here I sit.

Seven months later

Holding and feeling the knife I used

So many times before

To puncture my skin

And watch the blood

Slowly seep through the slit.

What is it about

The sharp sting you feel

When the knife

Slices through your skin

That can make you think about it

Every day.

And make you want to give in.

Once you start

You never truly stop.

You never stop feeling

That wonderful burning feeling

You get when you've just finished.

It's a pleasure.

A sick

And horribly wrong pleasure.

It fills

And takes over your mind.

So who ever is reading this,

Never start cutting.

Once you start

You'll never want to stop,

Once you realize

The sick pleasure of it.