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:)