Not So Metaphorical Anymore

I watch the blood rise from my cuts.

Of the red beauty, there's never enough.

After a moment, my eyes are shut.

To deal with these emotions is no longer tough.

The feel of its burn makes me smile

And puts me at ease

Yet it distracts me all the while

The guilt brings me to my knees.

I know this isn't right

But the cuts' burning puts me at peace.

It keeps the grip of my emotions from getting too tight

Around my heart and has my tears cease.

I shouldn't be like this.

It shouldn't feel so good.

Where's the old me I miss

Who was strong and understood?

Understood, she did.

That she could survive

But she must has hid

Because now I'm dead inside.

Because of my family

I can now say, while feeling torn,

That my scars are

Not so metaphorical anymore.