Needs more colour.

Pale, with blue lines,
My wrist need more colour,
Maybe a little red,
Some purple.

The pressure is building,
Needs to be let out,
And the is stress mounting,
I scream… that does not help.

Shiny,
Sharp,
Slicing,
Spilling.

I cut these pale white wrists,
Adding a spat of blood,
Knowing later the will be purple,
From punching myself again.