Touch on the wound.
Go on! Touch on the wound,
With salt if you’d prefer!
It’s open and shedding red tears for you
Because of you!
Touch on it for spite, just to see my pain,
Your cruel pleasure.
Feelings run through the body,
Deep blue blood courses through the veins.
Deep blue blood that shows depression;
Spilt red as anger draws feelings out to the surface,
Out with the blade.
Expectations of black blood.
Your spite and cruelty are reflected
Onto me, my body, my emotions.
Hidden tears.
Shoot me with that look of disgust,
No need for words.
You cut me deeper than the metal!
© REBEKAH SMITH November 2002.
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