Nisha Janine - that night

I'm laying here in my bed
With scissors and pins
writing lists of all my wrongs
with every wrong there comes a cut
across my wrist or leg

Watching the blood drip from the cuts
I dab it with a napkin
the lists of wrongs gets longer
My hands become numb

Asking myself why i do this
I feel the cuts turn to to bumps
the stinging pain reminds me of all my wrongs
I drift to sleep hating myself

Nisha Janine

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/that-night-10/