Imagination Runs Wild

Sitting here, Unable to stop thinking, I look down at my wrists. I can see the razor blade, Glinting in the candle light. I put the sharp tool of pain, Into the red hot flickering flame, And watch anger like it's edge. Hypnotized by the sight. The heat burns my fingers, And know now is the time, The heat seems to flow past my skin, And penetrate straight into my heart. The smell of burning flesh, Almost soothing. The blade begins to cool, I slowly pull it away. I look down, Only to see, It was all just my imagination. How unfortunate