counter bound wounds and processes (poem) tw for sh and destructive thoughts

fingers, they run down my skin leaving violent, later on bruised red marks i drag raw fingertips down my mirror grime digs under my skin like decomposing splinters i feel so far from healing, yet i try again i pick up my guitar and sing i then put it down, returning to the bathroom returning to the counter where i once sat holding a pair of scissors in my hand i open the scissors as far as i can yet keep my legs closed shut for theres no appeal in scars i trace these fresh new wounds with my finger and yet i wince at the raw metal sting i look up to the mirror and i stare into my reflected eyes looking like glass with their teary highlights my gaze turns to my thighs my once porcelain thighs, now tainted by this drug-like blade i drop the scissors, wondering what i did to get here its a cause and effect process, but what caused it theres no sure-fire way to know what caused this addictive pain fingers now dig into my scalp as i text everyone im fine my hands shake as i type these lies the only place lies have gotten me is my bed lying down, staring at the ceiling and sighing now i pull harder on these strands of hair brittle and thin from how much theyve been tugged i look to these thighs, these wound ridden thighs these thighs which hold no appeal to anyone i wash my hands, put the scissors away and look back to the raw fingertips now reaching for the doorknob as i deny these destructive fantasies my fingers now finding a distraction my eyes now cleaning their stained glass panels and my thighs still stinging as i swear im alright