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Line after Line
December 11, 2008
Line after line is scratched away,
Why can’t I do the same to each and every day?
Why can’t I just NOT BE THIS WAY?
I want to just flush it all away.
I look to the dresser, I spy the blade.
I look at my arms, the lines its made.
My heart leaps, my lungs freeze,
It’s so hard to deny what my dark mind needs.
I try to turn around, knowing I’ve given up inside,
The trickle of thoughts becomes a roaring tide,
Finally I submit, and raise my head,
Raise my arms, and paint them red.
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