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.