Dermatillomania


A word that is hard to spell
A word that is hard to say
A word that is hard to explain
A condition that is hard to deal with.
Infected wounds covered with scabs
Reopened every-day.
Stinging pain.
Blood stained fingers
Bits of skin laying on the napkin
Blood smeared all over my skin as I keep going.
I black out
All I know are the scabs laying on my skin
Neosporin and Band-Aids are never used, unless caught.
Scars litter my chest
It will never look the same ever again.
Hairs and scabs lie around me.
The sound of an engine pulling up the driveway
Snaps me out of my trance
I listen closely as a car door closes.
The sound of keys has me scrambling to clean up.
Throwing away the skin, scabs, and hair.
I pull on my jacket to hide my skin,
And my Dermotillomania no longer exists.
For now, at least.

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