Glinting silver against
A pale complexion
Calls upon crimson
The vicious liquid
Washes away guilt
Pain and thoughts.

It only calls for
A piercing scream
A cry for help
The feeling of
Warmed hands
And tears.

Soon crimson is
Covered with ivory
It stains through
But stops flowing
In the end.

The tourniquet
Stops the liquid
The guilt and pain
Stop flowing away
And begin to store
Themselves away for
The next day.

Thoughts return
Only to lecture
Poor savior
They only wanted
To save a life.

They didn't mean
To harm them more
They can only cradle
The soul in arms of warmth.

They can pray for
No encore.

They can hope to be the
Soul's tourniquet
Stop the flow for good
Clear the pain and guilt
With love and caring
Tie up cruel thoughts
With the ivory.

This is the dream
But it is also the solution
To stop an encore.