I would prick my finger with a needle
Until it pierces through.
I would make the blade dance against my wrist
Until etches have formed.
I would bite down on my tongue
Until I taste rust in my mouth.
I would walk on tacks, barefoot
Until they stick to my feet.
I would run around a field of thorns
Until they've gashed my thighs.
I would scrape my hands against the wall
Until it feels raw and cut.
I would do all of this until I'm covered in blood—
Cherry red like your lips.
A/N: Tell me what you think. Please R&R:)