K is for Knives

Feel the silver glide along,

sliding in neat little lines,

the friction of the cuts intense.

I did not want to hurt,

feel a speck of pain,

but it came to me anyway.

My face is a deep red,

you can see the mental and physical anguish seeping in,

the trails of my friend glistening so bright.

There are marks from attempts in the past,

lingering upon this silky cover,

stopped by the b******s who have to love me.

 

Simple is the construction of such an item,

a handle and a blade,

and yet so difficult to understand.

In times of trouble,

they call to me,

my name upon their edge.

Voices you cannot deny,

anymore than you deny yourself,

though it is a wolf in sheep's clothing still.

 

As my body becomes paler,

and this water turns dark and dirty,

I think of all the happier times in life.

Warm embraces to start the morning,

cool kisses to end the night,

 simply a smile to keep things going.

 

The tears subside and the blood stops flowing,

for what reason I will never know,

something is forcing me to stay alive for at least one more god-damned day,

and I will be all too happy to oblige

 

 

 

Author's Note

This has no personal reflection of myself...my arms are scar free except for those from intense sports activities.