The First Cut

Wasn't the deepest
no,not at all.
It was like the others
a subtle rend of anxious skin,
a gentle pulse of crimson,
just enough to hush the demons
shrieking inside my brain.
But this time they wouldn't
shut up,just kept on
howling.

Worst thing was,the older
I got,the more I see how I
fall in an dout of the blue,
then lifting up into the white.
I actual thought about howling
So I gave myself to the knife,
asked it to bite a little
harder,chew a little deeper.
The hot,scarlet rush
felt so delicious
I couldn't stop there,
I continued to cut deeper
until I was put into pain
and realized how much
blood was running down
my arm,I had stopped there.

And now I never look back at
My habit,it's over.