Slowly with precaution
Iron steel pressed against foreign flesh.
Little by little it breaks the skin.
The knifes blade not leaving till
Signs of blood appear.
A rough cut exists.
Iron steel against warm foreign flesh again
This time a little clearer,
A little redder, a little deeper.
Back and forth and again
Over and over
The blade pressed down
Its jagged edge
Puncturing my skin a little more
My wrists stinging
My mind wandering
The blade and my skin meet again
Deeper, clearer, redder, sharper
My wrists have become numb,
Soaked in my own blood,
My own pain,
My own fears.
The jagged edge of the blade chose its new victim
The evidence:
Thirteen lines across my wrist
Each day I dare to venture further, deeper,
Till I feel the burning,
Cause then
Even if just for a split second
At least I know I’m alive.
-Pearlland