People ask why my fingers are bandaged-
I tell them I got them replaced.
People ask why I pick my skin-
I tell them I have nothing better to do.
People suggest I simply stop-
I tell them sure, no problem.
As if it were that easy.
People tell me I should see someone-
I tell them my eyes are too busy.
Peple tell me they have the same problem-
I laugh and tell them yeah, it sucks.
Yet, I struggle to believe we share
the same burden as they sport their lively
pink cuticles and I struggle to keep the blood
from staining my exam.