Cutt: a poetic monologue

A Story by Ego-sum-judith

"Why do you cut?"

        Cutt: a poetic monologue
              The roar of nature tenses my bones and yet here I sit listening to the cracks and coos of the outside.
              I wonder if the pain in my deformed and overused heart will ever be as loud.
       Looking up into the sky, I see that the sun is angry with me; she does not want to play. She has sent her sister to console me, the dark and evasive moon, who only shows her true face once every trying month.
       Looking into the eyes of the moon, I see that she offers me none of her wisdom. I am sad. I want to cry, but I do not. I hold back my devious tears. I am angry I want to scream. I do not, I am not worthy. I wish I were. So the night would lend me his ears and hear a cry that tears dance on and hate controls. A cry that is so mutilated it swings on the stings that are my sanity. A cry that is loud. So loud, such that trapping it inside swells my vocal cords and brings bile to my throat. And places bugs under my skin and over muscle to race through my nervous system. All I hear is that cry.
       I hurt. I hurt a pain that shakes me dry. One that makes my mother cry to see me lying in bed, a dirty pillow under my head, looking for comfort in nothing.
       I hurt a pain that makes me quake one that makes my hand shake, as I hold my friend razor to my flesh hopping, praying, screaming that maybe peace will come only in death.
       Don't you frown upon me god! You gave me emotions so strong they stole my decisions away. I don't have a choice, you selfish man!
              I don't think thee understands. I don't want to die; I just want the pain to go away.
              As I lay in my empty bathtub, I allow the darkness to kiss me. A thin layer of conciseness surrounds me.
       Until I feel a drop of my sticky wet blood dripping down my ankle to join her friends that are delicately pooling in the towel at my feet.
       I stand up quickly and sway. I lost a little too much blood today. I retrieve I cloth and slam the door to my tiled sanctuary. I here my mother shout.
              "Everything's fine." I say as I press down on my femoral artery to keep myself from bleeding out.
       I don't think thee understands I don't want to die; I just want the pain to go away. And don't you ever again bless my bones with your hatred smile and poisonous words that feather from your lips with every deceiving lullaby.
       And yet here I sit listening to nature yell remembering my mother radiate her disapproval as she cried crying tears that walked down her face with a melancholy strut as she looked up with fearful eyes and asked me, "Why do you cut?"