My Addiction

My addiction isn't of cigarettes or alcohol.
It isn't relief I find in a blade;
But my addiction is pain.

My pain is my addiction
Because it gives my mind some kind of relief,
Although it only adds to the hurt I feel inside.

It's funny how this addiction, once satisfied,
Can make me feel so much better at times,
Yet it only makes my depression grow with each infliction.

I do not cut, although I have before.
There are other ways that I've found to cause myself pain,
Rather than using a blade.

Rather than using a blade and physically harming myself,
I do it emotionally through many different ways,
Only to satisfy the overwhelming craves.

Whenever I look into the mirror,
Instead of showing my reflection the faintest smile of acceptance,
I turn my face, too ashamed to stare into the eyes of my mistreated soul.

I feed my cravings with negativity.
Today, it may be that shameful stare;
Tomorrow, it may be accepting that I'm not good enough.

Accepting that I'm not good enough,
Is just what this addiction craves.
It wants the satisfaction of knowing that I believe the many lies it tells.

If only I could have someone to help me win this battle;
Someone to ease the pain away;
Some way to escape the horrible things I'm tricked into believing.

I need to find a way to escape this.
I've turned down the knife yet again tonight,
But I wonder what emotional scar will be left behind from these hurtful lies.

The emotional scars my pain has caused,
Are what influence me to want to try harder,
To overcome this addiction to pain, before it overcomes me.