Picking at a scab does no good.
Guess what? It just results in blood.
Blood – the ties that bind they say.
Perhaps that is for another day.
I have no blood.
That’s why it matters.
You act as you do and it just splatters.
Leave it alone.
Let it be.
I pick again mercilessly.
I have no blood.
There is no me.
I’m looking for an identity.
Kate on Thin Ice 
Scabs and scars are what make us unique. Different from others. Don’t pick it. Learn to love it. For that’s who you are. xx
This really touched me. A great analogy. I sometimes feel I have something I can’t stop thinking about. I hope you find your identity and the ‘scab’ heals. x
Kate this is very raw. And words which I can relate to. ‘Leave it alone. Let it be’ – sometimes easier said than done…
I like this but if I may say so, felt it could do with another verse? Perhaps it is just me, but I’m left wanting to know why no identity, no blood, I found myself wanting to help too! I’m not sure I understood the metaphor and am left sat here trying to work it all out… sigh: ‘scabs help wounds heal’ etc etc etc!! Pls fill me in if you get the chance to comment, meanwhile, I think I may need an early night!
This is a very powerful poem Kate and true of many people.
Sounds like you need a nice soothing cream to gently help heal the scab. A really thought provoking poem x