One is gentle, just to start,
Two's intent's to make a mark.
Three's for "ugly" and for "rude",
And for good measure, four is, too.
Five is for the lies I said,
Six is for who's in my bed.
Seven makes me cringe and gasp,
Eight is for the quiet rasp
That might alert my parents to
That which they told me not to do.
Ten's a bore,
My skin stops screaming out for more.
I watch the blood that trickles down
My leg from where it is I've found
A peace of mind in pieces of
My skin, torn raw from lack of love.