PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Blood flows through my fingertips,
razor gently kisses skin,
want to hurt, want to feel,
want to bleed, is it real?

Pulling away from reality,
into a blood soaked fantasy,
doors locked, no one knows I'm here alone.

Lights are off, but I can still see the scars,
can feel the sting of the blade,
cutting cleanly, sweet release.

The numbness sets in,
the pain only a brief taste.

A drop of poison, to kill the pain,
want to hurt, again and again.

Trade one pain for another,
crimson tears fall from my eyes,
mix with the tears on my wrists,
bliss shouldn't feel quite like this.

Love to bleed, to cry, to hurt.
Lost in the dark, covered in dirt.

Trapped in the same cycle,
forever in a cursed loop.

Try to stem the blood flow,
precious life, slips through my fingertips.

Consumed with blood lust,
obsessed with this fantasy,
damned, trapped in this dark reality.