Staring At A River

The blood runs

Io stares at my palm

At the clean slice

Tears fall silent

From the empty glass

I call my eyes

Pain sends trembles

But I make no sound

Red rivers turn to streams

And dry stains

Down bare, cold skin

Paralysed by hurt

I can only look on

How long

I do not know

So still I stood

Unconscious within

Only pain

Only the memory

Slowly the knife slips

From the grip

I held it in

A loud clang of metal

But I am mesmerised

By the pouring, running blood

Ochre skin

Unseen pain

But visible torture

Why has no one come to my aid?

Holly Johnson

22/11/02

Authors Note: this did not come from personal experience, and I hope that no one is ever in this situation either. People listen, they really do.