Lying in a pool of crimson,
Dizzy, Vision getting blurry,
Can't remember what happened,
All there is; is pain.
Skin, touching cold white tiles,
That are slowly turning pink,
Clothes are sticky and ripped,
The world, slowly swirling black.
Looking down the arms to the wrists,
It's all one huge mess,
The delicate surface all in shreds,
Flowing out is deep blood red.
Look upon those once perfect arms,
Now covered in white scars and red gashes,
But now they'll always be there,
Like a haunting reminder.
Try to cover up with long sleeves,
Or even a pair of gloves,
But no matter how hard you try,
You can never get rid of the scars.
They show how you tried to banish pain,
To change it from emotional to physical,
Making you feel better,
Seeing what is actually hurting, causing the pain.
