Slivers of physical pain

Life throbbing in your veins,
Your wrists bleeding crimson blood,
Life's finest beauty in your eyes,
A beauty so misunderstood.
It trickles through your fingers,
It flows over your open hands,
Such a striking thing,
Surely such an effect was planned.
It dries on your nails,
Stains your clothes and your stretched palms,
Your eyes travel to the scars of this beauty
Which line up your arms.
Slivers of physical pain,
Emotional scars long forgotten,
These physical marks replacing
The feelings of your soul, decaying and rotten.
Graze your skin and press down harder,
Feel the sting of the blade,
See the blood well on the cut,
Another one so quickly made.
You feel your stress drain away
As soon as you receive the blades kiss,
It is your closest confident and yet your darkest enemy,
Leaving you with the blood upon your wrists.

© Copyright of Holly Nia Goodson