Cutting Again

The war is in my mind.
The wounds are on my body.
I've always drawn in lines,
Cause you can trust those lines

Look at the red and wonder.
Feel the stickiness.
And as it flows I ponder,
Is this a sickness?

You look nice fresh.
So ugly when you dry.
As you heal you turn my flesh,
As you heal you bring my high

I never stop to think about it.
As I drag my metal friend.
But senses come quick,
When the pain ends...

poem by Rue Kendra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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