Blood is black in the moonlight.

Blue light cast upon me.

You ask a question.

Then it's gone.

Torn up on the darkness.

Bleeding.

Burning.

It's nothing.

A bruise.

Feeling ill and stupid.

Lovely razorblade.

Hating this.

Feeling anxious.

Nothing I can do.

Tired eyes.

Fist clenched,

My hand shaking.

Don't cut wrong.

Don't want to die.

Just to stop this feeling.

Would stop now,

Now that you can't hide.

But only a few words...

And you crave it.

Bitter soul.

Why?

So many reasons.

And yet none.

Or does it really matter?

Feelings of idiocy, regret, anxiety, pain...

Ugliness staring at you in the mirror.

Or maybe that's what you want to tell yourself to feel alright...

In your own twisted way.

Twining barbed wire around my arms.

Pricking my fingers on thorns.

The question.

The stupid question.

A single question...

That brought this moment to pass.

Trying to tell.

Feeling it all the more.

Because that's what you really are.

Love the pain.

Make the thoughts stop.

Letting the barbed wire dig deeper.

I hate this confused mess.

Close my eyes.

Try to find calm.

But I only find...

What I do not want.

Smiling.

Bleed.

Time crawling over my hands.

Blurred.

Distortions.

Bitter.

Too loud.

All too loud.

Rampant.

Chaos bleeding me dry.

Enjoying every second of it.

Thoughts left unfinished.

Anger.

Loud.

Bad thunder.

With no rain.

Thinking I never would have done this.

I was so wrong.

A sad smile.

Or no smile.

Knives and razors.

Frustration.

The burning.

Makes you smile.

Fingers wringing my throat.

Hate.

Explosion.

Fear.

Everything is fear and sadness.

So is there a point?

If feelings are supposed to.

Ill.

Bright lights.

Pen moving fast across paper.

Realizing.

Such loud noise.

And these are useless words...

That all mean nothing.

Because all this probably means nothing.

Why do I make myself bleed now?

THOUGHT IT WOULD NEVER COME TO THIS.