the puppet to the needle (self harm)

This medicine would affect my mind I knew it from the start
There's always been something about needles
Thin splinters of metal sharpened to a fine point
The silver glint of the tip as it slides in
The push and give of the flesh beneath it
That feeling of it holding there in the flesh
The feeling of pressure from the syringe liquid then air
Then there's the way the flesh follows the needle
It is as if the flesh simply wants to be impaled
There are no words to describe how sick I am to feel this way
Too many times I've felt disgusted to find that I was looking forward to hurting
These treasonous urges to be the hand that delivers my pain
That self preservation perverting in upon my need to self harm
The doctor has given me permission to stab myself everyday
These wires in my head have been mismatched
To be told over and over again not to hurt myself
To now being instructed to not stop hurting myself
The daydream and nightmare duality of needles in my minds core
There truly is nothing as brilliant as that silver glint of a needle