Standing in front of the mirror

Eyes burning under fluorescent lights

Illuminating a solemn face

Dripping down the cheek, a single drop of blood

The tear of a pimple popped far before its time

Hands reach upwards automatically

Robotically

Set on the task of forcing another blemish open

Nails dig deep into the skin

Pain gives a gruesomely rewarding spark of life to what feels dead

Internal screaming to stop, to relinquish the miserable task

Ignored, unimportant, the voice holds no power

The pimple

Still in its prime, young

Refuses to burst under the pressure

Rather, the nails dig so deep into the skin

Press with such emotional force

That the nails themselves are what draw blood

Hands twist the sink on

It’s not the first time that night

Nor is it the last

Blood swirls down the drain

A refreshing splash of cold water graces the face

Creates a clean, fresh template

Though it’s only temporary

Standing in front of the mirror

Dripping down the cheek, a single drop of blood

Hands reach up automatically