Moment of Power

The shining silver of the blade
Feels cold against my wrist
My blood starts pumping
At the very thought of it
I press it down
And slice across
Leaving a deep red line
I wince a bit
But the pain is nothing
Compared to what I feel inside
The blood is hot and sticky
As it trickles down my wrist
Completely different from the knife
I used to do it with
I egg it on to bleed some more
But in the end
I clean up my mess
And leave my moment of control
Until another time