Rust

The burnt muddy taste of blood,

like a sickenigly sweet alcohol.

Blackened bags of pure despair,

under eyes that cannot bear another tear.

A mind that is racing with painful thoguhts,

but still cannot stop.

Gentle fingers that shake rapidly,

for no known reason at all.

A body that rocks itself back and forth,

only wanting a simple distraction as comfort.

Cheeks covered in silver wet desperation,

a longing need of anything besides the pain.

.

Rust covers the memories,

making their emotions go mute.

Rust covers the metal in the chest,

allowing no more blades to cut through.

Rust covers the entire well being,

trying to shut out the pain that wont go away.