Untitled Poem3

Last night I went to the store
I needed some stuff, I thought.
I ended up with more razor blades
In addition to normal things I bought.

I stood in front of the display
Rows and rows of Gillette
Debating o'er the 5 or ten pack
Which one shall I get?

I actually stand there thinking
How many will I need?
Is five enough before I'll stop
Needing to see myself bleed?

In this store, the razor blades
Are behind a little plastic door
That emits a loud squeal when you open it
So everyone sees you for sure.

Every now and then I imagine
That everyone in the store knows
That I really don't use them for shaving
And they're whispering 'oh, there that nutty one goes'.

When I need to buy tape and gauze
And ointment to handle the sore
I am afraid they will figure the whole thing out
So I buy those at a different store.

Its so ironic, these gyrations I go thru
To hurt myself again.
Will I ever stop for good?
Is is possible? If so, when?...