A shield-like cap we know as a scab forms over the area as a way to protect the wound from infection while the new skin is created.

Picking at scabs to let 'em bleed
Praying the crimson exorcises me
of this growing mental pain &
monumental gain
of my loss of sense of self
and pathetic failing health
"Could this be death?"
One could only hope --
to see the lights descending
to stop this never ending
episodic seizure
that fucks me in the head
& changes my demeanor
every year I'm alive
just trying to survive
But I haven't lived a day
(not yet)
where everything's okay
where my crazy thoughts don't stray
into the black abyss &
I don't know how much more, of this
bullshit I can take
before I know for sure
that I can't take it any more
Take me under, Demons
(you win)
Take me six feet deep
Maybe then I'll finally wake up
(I've lost)
Maybe then I'll finally sleep
(I'm lost)