Keep On Bleeding

I slice the fragile skin on my wrist open

Watching the sticky, red, liquid that seeps out

Feeling it drip down my sleeve 

And the agonizing pain that wraps itself around my fist. 


I know the skin will pull itself together again

Leaving behind nothing but a rough, jagged scar

And i'll rip it open again and again

Until it can no longer heal.


I stand completely still

Watching, mesmerized at the way my hand spasms and clenches

The skin around the wound raw and torn

Looking at the inside of what I so often see the outside of.


Its beautiful in a morbid sort of way

And I relish the quiet of my thoughts

Thankful for the brake from the emotional torment

I watch as the blood begins to slow hardening on my skin.


Once again I pull forth the knife

Letting it hover over my wrist 

As I think about what would happen if I pushed it even deeper this time

If I let it break the final layer of skin and hit the tendon.


Instead I place the knife back on its shelf

And let my fingers roam over the scars jagged path

A path that runs straight to my heart

And percis deeper than any blade ever could.


And once again I wonder about the consequences of slitting my wrists

Of cutting to the point of no return

But I know those results will be like none ive ever experienced

And im not ready to make that decision yet.

This poem is about: 


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