Suffering? No.

Written during a harsh time in my life.

Blood oozing down my shivering, hot hands.
I cannot stop.
The sweet, cold blade runs down my pale skin.
My eyes are forever stunned, looking at the pictures I have of you.
Tears run down my face, as I cut into my cheeks.
Whoever said they were tatoos?

I carve the two indents into my bone.
They stand for pain & grief.
Why, you might now ask, do I harm Myself?
I am not ruining the perfect face you said I had.
Just a face of pure sorrow and ignorance.
I am now broken by my own decisions,
And the blood now dripping thickly down my chin
Smells of the death soon to come.

I run my blood soaked fingers shakily down your picture.
It burns me,
Flames licking up my hand, drying the blood stained nails.
I do not scream.
I let the flame of my torment and torture run across me.

Isn't that what you wanted?

To see me suffer at your pleasure, and never be happy?

Reviews

[Michael X]

Intently well devised and the image itself is well devised, and quite riveting
in its nature, honestly I'm impressed with the subtle yet powerful detailing
that really hits the reader after the story is done, the blood, blade,
is all crafted with nicely, you could experiment and move the "my"..only
because you've justified the character already, although its just as awome
as it sits, and I've been in the mood to read something dark, this hit it perfectly