The blade:
The silver tipped blade dipped in an invisible toxin lies in my sight
Balancing lightly in the side of my drab view
It calls me like a mermaid luring a sailor to their watery death
I feel my small attraction
My need to slice and watch red spur from the slash
To watch it trickle
And to feel the pain as red cascades down the tanned complexion of my arm
Why must I be a cutter?
Why must I cut?
YOU ARE READING
The Abuse Poems
PoetryA few poems which I made about abuse and self harm, which when I get time will grow from the one I have: The Blade
