Drops of Crimson
All alone, you're cringing in fear,
staring at the cold edge of steel.
For beyond the fringes of hope,
pain is the only thing you feel.
Sanity decides what's real
as inhibitions start to fade.
And anticipating relief,
depression empowers the blade.
Cutting releases pent-up hurt,
caught in an emotional web.
And the physical pain allows
rising anxieties to ebb.
With each pounding beat of your heart,
crimson starts flowing from your vein.
Yet your pulse begins to throb less,
for each cut numbs your mental pain.
Your soul drowns in a scarlet pool,
coalescing within your heart.
And yet, you feel alive inside,
although it's tearing you apart.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015
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