Hurt

It's fictional

I drop the scissors,
On the floor,
Just as the blood,
Begins to pour. 

Its not a gash,
But I feel the burn,
You've had enough, 
So now it's my turn. 

Watch it trickle,
Close my eyes,
Wishing to help you,
As I give pressure to my thighs. 

Clotting the blood,
Then remembering your still hurting,
So I jab it in there making it flood,
The scissors could swear are flirting. 

Winking at me,
Blowing kisses,
Asking me am I taken,
Or am am I a misses. 

It's hard for me,
This is a goodbye,
Farewell never again,
Now I'm off to die. 

Author's Note

To remind you it's fictional

Reviews

[SINDE]

The level of metaphorical expression in this is profound. Thumbs up for the jarring images you create in the reader's mind :)