a certain type of harm

there is something wrong with you.
something so wrong no distractions will hide, 
something so bad no amount of punishment will end,
something so disgusting no amount of violence will resolve,
something so gross no amount of blood will show,
something so terrifying no amount of harm will destroy.
something so ungodly, even suicide can’t fix,
you can't run away even in death.
you’ll try 
over and over again.
breaking your arms
and biting your lips,
you can’t be fixed
unless you’re willing to be.
please let me help you
out of this hole,
hole surrounded by fear
hole surrounded by illness.
it seems to only suck you in more
after all, it’s yourself that you fear

a heavy feeling 
on your heart again,
you want to run 
you want to cling
onto the happiness you once received.
so you grab the thing
and you try harder
harder and harder each time,
it’s not enough to satisfy
so you go deeper
to really get under your own skin.
yet the unease is still there
and the disorder fluctuates in your mind
you say that you’re dumb 
and that you want to cry
but your face is stoic
as you look into your eyes