Saturday, April 10, 2010


I look upon a little cut
Caused by a slip of the knife
Not intentional, just from preparing food
And it is still soothing
Balm on clawed nerves
And even in my happy state
My skin enjoys the feel of my blades
I should invest in many
Viciously sharp ones
For when I want to quickly bleed
Small and cute ones
For those times that paper is not enough to sketch on
And I crave some hatch marks
Upon myself

And it all sounds very sick
Very brutal, ugly and cruel
So why does downing that vodka
And smoking and sucking tar
Constitute a better way to cope?
So I crave a blade
So what?

It's not everyday
It's not all over
Just a small line here
Some blood weeping from there
So surrender to the voices inside
And I am proud
They give me Pride
So I give them Peace

And you'll never know
Because my mouth remains
Impassive to you
Though some sorry part
Wants you to know all

And maybe some day you will

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