Blade of Depression
I sit and stare,
The morning light seeming to glare,
Shadows dance across my face,
As if reminding me that I'm a disgrace,
I see the blade in my hand,
A steady reference to the sand,
The thrill of desire runs down my spine,
As if it were something of divine,
I trail the blade across my thigh,
Shivering with delight and a sweet sigh,
Certain calmness fills my soul,
The deepest darkness of coal,
Drifting away with a peaceful end,
Until the time comes to cut again.
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