Can’t switch it off. Shackle my hands, burn off my skin. Can’t sleep at night. Living in pain, hide it away. Can't find comfort. Peel back the skin, darkness within. Make me bleed. Make it scab. Watch me plea. Repeat. Keep itching, peeling back the skin. It’s so hard to be nice to the person within when you remind me how hard I hold on. Pour salt in my open wound. The gift of suffering pushes me over the edge.