The Cut on my Wrist

There was blood everywhere

On the kitchen counter, sink, floor

Brother was roaring, screaming

Yelling for Mother and father

As if the house was on fire

Drip Drop, Blood continued to fall

He handed me a towel

I pressed it against the cut on my wrist

I strolled over to the bathroom to wash

Lifting the towel, I saw skin, white as snow

Mother holding my hand,

Crying out for help

Father sprinted outside to the car,

Ready to take me to the hospital

I began to laugh,

Walking to my room to take a nap.