Doubt Isn't The Only Thing

The urge of pain. Self inflicted. My skin screams.

But I have nothing. Nothing but doubt in my hands or so you thought.

Doubt isn't the only thing hidden deep inside, it's sharp made of steel.

It calls my name. My skin crys for it's arrival.  When it comes to visit we cheerish it with something red.

A red liquid hidden deep inside. where no one can see it cry.

when it leaves, it leaves a mess behind, a mess of red liguid. 

It stains my skin waiting to be washed away.