The blood bead bright red on my arm
From the row of bar code like razor blade
Cuts going up toward my elbow
It won’t stop and I clean it in the sink
Three times before giving up
And letting the blood flow
Had you had better timing
Or had I been in a better state of mind
I wouldn’t be standing here with swollen eyes
And a weak heart
And maybe, if I’m lucky,
I can blame my liver damage on you too
As I chug another beer
Blood turns darker when it dries
I’ll have stains on my shirt when I’m through
And I’ll blame you for that too
Anything to take the guilt off me
I hate the way soap stings in open wounds
I hate the way your words sting more