They cannot be distinguished from the other scars
That make their home on my arms.
Rabbits and cats have left their mark across my flesh,
But none so terrible as the brands.

That day, when in depression I sank so low.
That night, I sat with a blade in my hands.
I cried to the sky, the sun, anything
But I got no answer at all.

Clutching tightly to the metal, the stability,
It bit my skin, drawing its single tooth across
In a straight path of moist crimson.
The blood rose to greet my eyes.

The predator fell from my hands
And landed softly on the lush bedroom floor.
I wept with silent tears, I whispered to the night
"Take it away. Please take away the pain."

It did not dissipate, but sleep carried me away.