For my Blood is soothing,
drunk in pain with realization,
that horror would never leave me.
It would wring out,
the last drop, the last hope, the last gleam.
I sit here with a blade in my hand.
Watching the blood drip down,
a deep red color,
flowing freely, the way I want.
Razor is my paint brush,
my wrists, the canvas.
I don’t deserve this pain,
but my artwork is my escape.
I can still survive.
I may breathe but death possessed me.
The last tears that I will ever cry,
falling from my eyes,
falling into oblivion,
I watch them drop and they disappear forever.
You were killing me slowly, now I am almost dead.
I lay there lifeless.
Has death come to take me yet?
Oh sweet mortal death, make me your passive ally.
I welcome you with open arms, you look so nice.
You have so much charm. Be my lover!
Take me to Cynthia and Endymion, the muses and Juno.
Under misty layers of murky time,
there all my trembling secrets lie.
It's a shadowy illusion, living through me in reality.
My scars hurt a symbol of insanity.
I don’t remember how it all started.
What brought my interest to this?
When did I even discover that?
Dying is a form of bliss!
Do you want to know about me?
Perhaps I should just leave it a mystery.
I should not expose.
I am forever fighting a battle and the demons are taking away the trophy.
Now, I open my mental cage...
I. A child of 8. A dark blue isolated room.
A furious step-father, an abusive brother,
an avalanche of guilt, fear and pain.
Slap after slap after slap after slap... after...slap...after slap
I have no tolerance left.
You are wicked "slap", you are wrong "slap".
You whore you won't sleep with me? "Bang!"
My blood is not soothing.
The invisible sins drummed into my head, I am a puppet now.
Did your God instill in you to paint me red and black?
To snatch my mother away?
You killed her as you are slowly killing my soul.
I curl up in a corner,
and wail and wail till the tears dry.
You stole my colors, left me with grey.
Where do I go now?
Whom to beg?
Please take this pain away, I can’t fight anymore.
My eyelids feel heavy.
I am falling deep into sleep.
I am so confused where am I?
My body screams in pain.
My throat feels sore.
And then, I see my bloody wrists.
The anchor that held me to life let me off.
And I drifted away.
Even in death, my artwork is all over me.
My beauty is on my thighs.
And if you check my trash,
there are my frustrated letters of goodbyes.
Wounds heal but the scars remain.
Cut me open and see the pattern of my hurt.
To you, it’s just scars.
To me, it’s the reality...the truth.
I vainlessly throw coins in my dreams.
Sending lost wishes to my childhood's enchanted well.
But I am a survivor in death, a child matured by pain.
I am a spirit with colorful band aids on her cuts.
Eternal Life - Healing!
I try to smile, but even the angels wept at my loss.
Now, I vow, to batter this eternal legacy of horrid despair,
to soothe it with peace,
to still it with love.
For I still wish to paint the world with my regrets,
burn the city with my ashes,
forget I existed.
For I am now dead,
buried and forgotten.
My spirit hovering around my body,
I am finally at peace.