If pain was your companion,
If he filled empty spaces,
Has taken you new places,
The only one to give you compassion.

Your fingers hold on for dear life,
Colour drained, knuckles white.
You turn in bed alone at night,
Skin pierced by yet another knife.

Pain, it is my conviction,
When you knew it long enough,
It becomes an uncanny drug.
The consequence: an erratic addiction.