Sweet Blood

You press it deeper and deeper.

Until fresh red droplets of

Sweet adolescent blood comes out.

You know this is not something for pleasure

But for intense pain, you eagerly want to suffer.

You increase the pressure exerted on the rusted knife

Just to leave a mark.

A mark, no one would ever come across

Lest one enters the darkest side of your prettiest smile.

A mark so deep, it does not even bleed.

It is permanent 

Brimming with atrocious abuses and fake promises

Thrown at the little, fragile heart.

A mark that unknowingly could have changed the world,

And make others realize their self-worth.

But 

It is too late,

As the pressure intensifies, and the knife dugs deeper.

You stop for a second and then stop forever.

Your sweet blood of disappointment flows in all variations

As the suffocating room, screams accusations at the narcissistic world

Begging a little sunshine of appreciation

For the little heart who begged to differ.