You feel that itch
Oh, that horrible itch
It feels oh so good to scratch it
You wake up
That itch isn't there anymore
But now there is blood on the sheets
Everytime you listen you shake
Everytime you try to meet people like you
You can't escape
You're so confused
All the walls are black
You see a light but to turn it on you have to die
Your glasses are broke
You see monsters in your face
You don't understand
You feel that itch
You scratch it
Harder and harder
You feel like a monster
You began to grow claws
Why can't you do what you love without the blood
You have scars
And you tear them open just for a taste of joy
You don't understand
You want it to end but it feels so good
Your chest is freezing so you light yourself on fire
I don't know why I always come back
It feels so good to rip up your skin
"It is just a itch"
"Just dont scratch it"
I hear the echo of their voice in my head
I try so hard but the scars appear anyway
My skin peels off
So why do I scratch it?
I scratch it so atleast i can enjoy the scars
Atleast I can feel some relieve through the pain
YOU ARE READING
The Itch
PoetryPoem about how I love listening to poetry and it makes me feel good, but it also gives me moderately bad anxiety. I wanted to try to do a different type of poetry. I know it's probably sucky :/ but it's my first time writing this kind of poem.
