This poem was written some years ago during a very dark period of my life, peace
xx
My crimson reflection spurts
From my wrist,
My epitaph is carved with the blade
That will whisk me away
From the pain endure everyday.
My crimson reflection underneath
My nails
From when i have tried to let my
Wounds exhale
Psychosomatic feelings of bliss
The lips of death are what i want to kiss.
My crimson reflection falls to the ground
In droplets but makes no sound
To hear you have to listen
But everyone agrees its more fun to see
It glisten.
My crimson reflection sticks to me like glue
If i remove it i'll feel the sting too
It attaches itself to my cold as death skin
Fading and fading and beginning to thin.
