a poem about selfharm

Is there more i ask?

Is the more for me to give?

More for me to offer,

Or should i resist,

This temptation burn my wrist,

More then last night did,

I need it,

But its fading Again,

It used to look like story tales,

Many lines on paper,

But this story wasn’t fiction,

“Drip”

“Drip”

“Drip”