Blood is Beautiful

A poem, about the dual-side to self-harm, of cutting yourself.

 


 

Blood, the ruby red glisten, the glisten as it drips down your arm,
Like red, liquid gold, like the glistening of rubies.
The pain, the sting, dare I say it sting good?

What is happening? Where is this coming from.
Such beauty from me, the way it fills, the way it marks, the way it moves.

There is some sort of beauty in this. But this may be what I tell myself to feel better
To feel normal, to feel whole.

What is this, what is life, what is death.

Blood is beautiful, in some way,

At least I have one redeeming feature.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s