Dermatillomania
A Psychological Condition that Manifests as Repetitive, Compulsive Skin Picking #VocalNPM
Quick note before starting this poem:
I have suffered with this condition since I was little. There was never a point in time that I can think of, where I didn't have an open cut on my body from scratching, or from peeling open a scab. I even used to scratch while I slept; my mom would have to put socks on my hands to stop me from scratching myself raw. I wrote this poem as a sort of awareness piece a while back, but I think that it fits perfectly with the theme for this month!
Also, the picture of the birch tree above was also taken by me! I took it after I wrote this poem, and later noticed how perfectly this image fit with the words. Without further adieu, let's get to the poem!
A tree stands tall in the middle of a meadow
But with its bark already weak from the months of rain it was too easy to strip it bare
The incessant peck, peck, peck, pecking of the birds above drilled into its bone, peeling the skin away from its muscles
Dogs scraped at the base (scritch scratch, scritch scratch), exposing the white underneath
Fawns rub their antlers up and down, and up and down as the bark falls to the ground
Past lovers carve love poems with knives
The tree is covered in scars
The bark will never be the same
A guy stands tall in the middle of his room
His hands moving in a morbid rhythm as his nails claw into his skin
Scratching, scratching
His skin peels away, exposing the red and white underneath
Oh how patriotic his skin looks as he picks and scratches and peels
But oh how ugly it looks when his arms, legs, stomach, and back are polka-dotted with ugly brown spots
Yet and still he picks
And picks
And pick pick pick pick picks until there is nothing left to strip
Until there is nothing left
Until all you can see is the white meat underneath his skin
But the tree stands tall
Its root still firmly planted in the ground
Its leaves on the naked branches are damaged, but intact
They think of it as inspirational
He thinks of it as a torture method as he peels himself painfully dripping blood on the floor thinking that if he just keeps scratching and picking and peeling that he might eventually disappear
And so a tree stands tall in the middle of his bedroom
The bark that is his skin is already weak from the months of rain
And so he scratches and scratches and scratches and scratches and scratches
Until there is nothing left but a bare tree
About the Creator
Tahj Galberth
Just some trans dude.
Instagram👉: @big_boi_tahj
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.