Triad

There are…

Three…

Faces…

Faces staring out from the dark, beckoning me to come and succumb to the isolated loneliness. Slowly immersing from the scarlet drops of blood, dripping down my sloped wrist. Of course, every time I do this, I come inches closer to the pleading voices of chaos.

Three…

Lies…

Unforgivable lies. Lies that I could tell right away if they were the truth of not. Like a brand new sheet of tin foil, once even the slightest bit dented, you will always be able to see the line. It would be a total lie to say it was clean and ultimately deprived of any mistakes what-so-ever. Just like them.

Three…

Reasons…

Shameful reasons to why I am doing this unspeakable action. Shame, guilt and one that I have made all too obvious: obsession. An obsession that I swore I didn’t want, but at the time was clinging to it with the thin threads of my life…something I still hopelessly seize onto. Shame, crowding me into a dark corner, baring its saliva painted fangs directly into my misty eyes. Guilt, spawning to a larger number every time Mama and Papa shout at or hit my steadily dying body.

Three…

Minutes…

Minutes left to indulge my body in the red hot crimson flame that slowly eats away at my chance for sanity. Every time I do it, the ultimate need for more increases until I can stand it no longer. Each time I slowly slice each layer of skin in a deliciously slow manner a flood of pain seeps out. Temporarily calming the screams in my head, temporarily blacking out the filth my soul has become.

Three…

Wishes…

Wishing, pleading, that this frenzied torment would leave me a moments blissful silence to contemplate myself. Always wishing that every inch of my sanity didn’t always depend on that proficient silver blade. Wishing that the disgust and nausea, rotting itself inside of my soggy brain could be washed away with the simple word…redemption. Wishing that the word actually existed in my vocabulary…which of course it didn’t.

Three…

Emotions…

Emotions that are groping and pressuring my shaken senses into a lake filled with numbing pain. Emotions that make boiling tears slip from the corners of my red, swollen eyes. Emotions that make my dried out throat cry out with strangling screams of sheer desperation.

Three…

People…

People all complete with plastic smiles and Barbie-like concerned voices. Patting my back, words of comfort try to surround me, my mind deflecting them as they are each thrown at me from each direction of the room. I stop listening when I see another victim of the blade walk by, a boy, my height, cradling his now bandaged arm. The lady mutters a non-coherent remark to one of her friends and then says he had just arrived three days ago…with a case just like me…

You hear that…just like me…we could get to be friends… and then maybe, just maybe, a small sliver of hope lightened up the dark caverns of my heart. Maybe…there is hope… I think…until they take me into a white room, bare of any life.

Hope…for a demon like me? …I don’t think so…