AN ADDICTS ITCH

At first it doesn't bother,
it begins slow,and small.

The high is like no other,
so I can easily scratch it off.

The minutes pass so quickly,
it spreads sporadically.

At this point I am itching,
what feels like internally.

Shedding all my clothes,
my nails won't satisfy.

As fast as I can go,
with whatever I can find.

White lines upon my skin,
turn red,and start to raise.

Though I still can't stop the itch,
I scratch till my flesh breaks.

Clawing through the blood,
and through all seven layers.

It dawns on me at once,
The"itch"is something greater.

My mind has told my hands,
to dig deep underneath.

To find out who I am,
and set the addict free.

So till this very night,
I sit,a skeleton.

Still scratching at my life,
to expose whatever reason.

With nothing yet to show,
why I've become addicted.

I may never come to know,
no matter how bad it itches.