Thoughts About Self-Harm

"And there on my palm,

was the troubling need to cut something. 

Preferably myself. 

More practically, a piece of paper."

I finally understand the need 

To bleed from a wound you can actually see

The urge to drop ill from some terminal disease

That meant some microbe had seeped through my skin

Burrowed its way in

And festered and spread all through my body

That meant I could point and say, there! 

There was the source of my pain 

That if it could be explained, it could be healed

Than to stand perfectly whole, but shattered into splinters.