Fate has it.

A thousand

pinpricks

run up

my arm.

They follow

the trail

of the knife.

For once

my skin

remains whole

and hale,

and blood

won't stain

my jeans.

Why

must Fate

torture

me so?

She has

to reason

to preserve

my life.

If it did

then why suffer me

this pain?

Or is it the pains

that flow through my veins

that make me

worthwhile

to keep?

Never

the less,

I shall still

flirt with Death

until Fate

loses interest

and I die.

-San Carpenter