Escape

I sit with
This knife at
My skin trying
To draw back
But my muscles
Are locked when
I try to withdraw
All I do is press harder

When I slice
The pain so
Familiar I smile
In satisfaction...
Then I cry in
Horror I hate this
I hate myself
But why can I
Not stop?

Why you ask?
Too much of
An escape but
Where I escape to....,
Is not where I want to be.