With Each Lash (MAJOR TW for self-injury)

I drive away
The pain
With every stroke
Of my
Soothing instrument;
I comfort my misery
With each time
I drag that
Coping skill
Across my waiting skin.
I satisfy my hunger
For blood
With every time
I score that
Gleaming object
Anywhere and everywhere
On my skin I can;
I lessen my needy urges
With every gash
I create
With the sharpness
Of my
Handy tool.
I promise to stop
With every scar the
Blade
Leaves behind;
I feel so strangely calm
With every trail
Of red my
No-longer-clean
Device
Generates.
I have temporarily
Ridden myself
Of my everlasting,
Agonizing heartache
With every slit I carve
With my
Weapon;
I wish I could
Control myself
With every time I
Bleed myself open
With that sword-like
Edge.
I tell myself
That I can't escape it
As I sob so angrily
And penetrate
My thin skin layer
With that old,
Familiar,
Awful
Incision-maker;
I am helpless
Against it.
The tide
Of my desperation
To slice myself
Open to die
Crashes over me;
Every time
I feel the craving,
The burning yearning
And I realize
I can’t resist any longer,
So I give in,
Every
Single
Time.