My body is a canvas for your painting
A painful art session that I somehow weirdly enjoy.
Seeing the gory scenes we make yet appreciating it
The beautiful pattern the blood forms when it drips
Except we don’t touch the wrist
How cliche is that?
You like to spice things up
Let’s just cut a little. We won’t make it deep so it heals faster and the scars fade faster.
So day 1; I bring the blade out from the side of the sheets if the book i had it in
I feel it against my skin ; it’s cold
Day 2; I “trip” from my bed
Day 3; I accidentally burn myself in the kitchen
Everyone leaves but you
I try to escape you
I try to find redemption
Not everyone can be saved
At least not immediately
So I go on
Trying each day to find my escape route
You make me afraid of my solitude.
You creep in when I’m having a quiet time with my thoughts and take absolute control of it.
Your voice so loud, it consumes everything in its path
So everything else is blocked out.
Time after time
When it’s all done
And I look in the mirror
I don’t see my reflection
I see you
Smiling with satisfaction
You won tonight.
But I will keep trying
Till I win
Maybe not tonight
But I will win