I wish :p

It's sick.

Sick and wrong.

But the price of forgetting,
even for a moment
is high.

At first nothing appears to have happened.

Then she digs harder
and gives a grim smile of satisfaction
as a small red line appears.

Repeating the motions, over and over,
until what once was a blank page

is smattered in red scribbles.

The pain, intense at first,

slowly fades.

The music heightens, urging her on.

She dosen't care.
Dosen't care who might see.

It's the only way to forget...well....everyone.

Their dissapionted faces vanish into the fog
with every strike.

It's too late now.
Fuck them.

And as a solitary tear drips of her nose

she raises the plastic handle again
preparing, for the next strike.