Here I am turning in on myself

the violence begins

with a single thought

Then I move into another layer

regretting and clenching

It feels like this will never end

This feeling

as transitory as it is

The holding on

cuts the same path

across the same wound

Tearing the same piece

of the same flesh

Blood cascades

from self infliction

as punishment

for what?

I don’t know

But it is never enough

Blood Clenching Feel Holding Path Punishment Thought vio