Holding the tarnished blade
Recalling the insanity
That just hit me
A few minutes ago
When I held the same blade
Its colors now changed

I recall how it felt so awkward
To slice my skin
To see shades of red collecting
Releasing what was held within
And how it was like to look at the stranger
Reflected in the mirror

Like a movie it plays
As the floors become flooded
And as those crimson tears fall
Regrets exist no more though
For I bleed away the blood
I feel so unworthy of having

Fingertips cold like ice now
Shivers run down my spine
Freezing to death I am
Or maybe bleeding my life away
Yet all is cold, but my bruise
So warm you could sense the heat miles away

Holding the tarnished blade
My last words I want them to hear
My final ones that part those once red lips
I didn’t suffer from insanity
I leave you now with the final truth
I enjoyed every minute of it :)



AUTHOR'S NOTE:- I usually reject most poems about cutting, except if
they are really good and poetic. I dont cut, but I thought I could write
about a suicide attempt. so please only approve if this sounds like a good
poem..it's not about the concept of cutting or suicide itself. thanks
in advance!
 
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