Physical and Mental

Physical and Mental

I have a lust for blood,

That is all of my own.

For pain that hurts,

Just so much,

It blocks the mental out.

For blisters,

Big and bubbly,

That leave a lasting mark.

For cuts,

That will forever,

Leave a lasting scar.

For physical,

Be so much better,

Than the mental pain.

For at least I can do see it,

With the psychological,

 I cannot.

A visual comprehension,

That is what is physical.

A pain that is unseeable,

Psychological remains forever.

This is why I mark myself,

With scars and other things.

Using a razor,

A lighter,

Or anything nearby.

I try to cheat the mental,

Turn it into a physical form.

Or if all fails,

Just hurt so much I block the mental out.

So using physical pain,

I try to silence,

All the mental anguish.

And yet it rarely works,

But still I do it regardless.

I sit,

I cut,

I squeal,

I squirm,

Pulling that razor down.

The blood that then does follow,

Makes it all worth my while.

For at least with the blood,

It shows all that I’m hurting,

For far too often,

It never shows,

That I am really dying.

So what be the better,

Of the two pains.

Physical or mental?

Some would say that mental,

Must be the better one.

But I say neigh,

It is but physical,

That be the better beast.

For at least it is better understood,

And often more apparent.

For with test and drugs,

Physical can be found.

But mental be not that easy,

Or so it is we have found.

But whether one is better,

No one can truly say.

Yet all I know is that I am bleeding,

On the inside and the outside,

So physical and mental are equal and one.