The red line slowly rises,
Puffy and bold against my pale arm.
Why must I make so many promises
If I'm the only one that I harm.
It's my only escape from everything,
My salve for life's harsh burns.
It's for when challenges are flaring
and it seems as if insanity governs.
It's for when friends just don't understand
And are suddenly horrible at advising.
When there is no helping hand,
The pain looks its most enticing.
It's for when the secrets get heavy
And I can't risk letting myself shout.
When I need some relief badly,
The pain is how I balance it out.
It's for when I can't take any more stress
And no one is there to calm me down.
When my plate is a too-full mess,
The pain helps me not to drown.
The heated metal expands on my skin,
Searing through every friend's promising sneer,
Breaking through my distress boiling within.
Burning has become my aloe vera.
Mel. D.'s Other Poems
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