Staring at my wrists,
that little blue vein looks so tempting to slice though,
I have the scissors in my hand,
the sharp, shiny, blade glistening in the light of dark.
This pain I cannot see,
I cannot hear,
I can only feel,
I don't feel right unless I am hurting. You see red on my wrist,
you think its just paint,
little do u no.
I wipe my wrist clean,
was it paint or did i do it?
you'll never know.
