Be My Escort

The pain is genuine and isn't genuine;
I do resist but the blade insists.
So there.
You have me, my diminutive shimmering comrade,
Friend and foe urges back and forth.
The gush, the rush, the place of solace I yet again visit,
A sluice of crimson which only further provokes.
Then the scabby entrance seals for consolation,
Escorts me back;
Shhh, I didn't go anywhere.