Rose Petals

I keep picking away at myself

Pick, pick

I peel back layers, small ones

One at a time, delicately

Peel back

In secret, I pick

In silence, I peel

Pick away the skin, at the scars

Peel back the layers

Of dry flesh

Like withered rose petals

I run my fingers over the grooves

Oddly satisfied, fascinated

And disgusted at the same time

I can’t stop, compulsively

Digging into my flesh

With my flesh

Picking at the cracks

Peeling and pulling back

Sometimes I draw blood

Wondering how I’ve gone this far

Wondering if I can stop

Break the habit, this dirty vice

Pick, peel, pull, despise

Condemning myself to end it

This time or next time or next time

How much more can my soul

Survive