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14
A poem I made
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The trickling of crimson sanguinity

I trace my hand across my wrist Sallow scars are sitting with An evocation of excruciation

I can’t take back the blood I’ve drained Brutally and brashly maimed My fresh gashes weep tears of crimson

The pain seeps out with every incision Like liberation with every lesion I indulge until I’m sated

My lustrous blade is so alluring A siren singing of soothing I grasp it with tentative certainty

The anguish is eroding my psyche My mind a morose melancholy I just want a resolution

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6 months ago