Pick, Scratch, Itch
A Poem on Skin Picking / Date: Oct.20.2020
These once so sacred arms became animated landmines.
Years of Self Practice of the art.
Scabbed over and picked off,
till every inch of skin becomes smooth.
a whole body tattooed in old scars.
nails embedded with blood.
a tick, an itch, picked apart, never to be satisfied.
an uncontrollable monster hidden beneath.
a bite of the lips, tear at the cheek, the taste of copper between the teeth.
an urge for perfection, a craving so neat.
Soreness from head to feet, No bump left behind.
Comfort to a racing mind.
Production with little time.
A motivational rhythm, nicked to soothe.
Habits laced in Boredom.
A Repetition of broken thoughts, Cursed by a self-absorbed crime.
Just to look into the mirror, Eyes staring back in confusion.
Hating what you see.
Reminded from those around, That you are a freak.
Only to wash, rinse and repeat.
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This was a personal poem on my skin picking disorder. I was finally able to tell in words what the experience is like.
***Please check out my Website below, I'm currently in the midst of writing a book and any bit of support truly helps! ****
You can also buy my original art & crafts from my shop, buying helps support me as a small business owner
Website: https://ko-fi.com/ghoulishtalestudios
Ig: @GhoulishtaleStudios
Facebook: @GhoulishtaleStudios
Twitter: @GhoulishtaleStudios
About the Creator
Ghoulishtale Studios
Hey! My name is Trinity, I'm a self-taught artist & fictional writer! My goal is to self-publish a story that I have had in the works since childhood. 🕸️Any support is welcome! 🖤Like, Share and Follow me through my website & Socials!
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