Self Injury

Seven months since I last cut,
Every day seems harder than the last.
Longing for that old familiar sting,
Feeling like a failure for nearly giving in.

I can't help staring at the rows of scars,
Never letting my eyes move away from them,
Just like little rivers, flowing into one another,
Ugly lines mark the pain I used to feel.
Reality is hard to live with.
Yet again, it's sometimes hard to keep up this pretence.