WARNING
TW
BEFORE YOU MOVE ON
THIS POEM IS ABOUT A STRUGGLE WITH SELF-HARM
I'm open about my experiences and I love helping others who may be dealing with the same thing feel free to comment and I will talk with you if you'd like❤❤
Crimson is blood red or maybe clown red
Crimson is scary red and sometimes a big clumpy red red that pours out of my wrists
Red that pours out my neck
Red that runs freely on my body and does so till I soak it up in a cloth
Crimson does as it wishes as a man who wants his way
He holds me protecting me
Holds me as he runs his fingers on my arms
it stings
It burns and I see him pour out of me out of my veins
He grabs my thighs and again a stinging sensation takes over and the crimson color pours out again.
I'm overpowered by this red beast who makes me feel queasy and dry I am weakened and sucked out as the crimson colors pour out. He runs his fingers on my arms and the red leaves a white mark like a tattoo of my mistakes
He leaves a pink mark a red mark it just depends on how deep he sunk his nails into me
The crimson color that runs down keeps going until I wake up and the crimson is on the blade
His thorns are the blade gliding on my skin separating everything in its path
The blade cuts and I'm in charge but of course I dont know this until the deed is done
the skin is cut and the blood
The crimson blood spits out
P