MAP #1: I Wrote This Under The Tree

Five Cuts to Hold On

There are blood stains in the sheet,
Red spots scattered on the floor,
White was always never be a neat,
Black made it to spur.

Slivers were marked in the arms,
Just a physical pain from mental harms;
Five rips to hold me on,
Slices of flesh to move too soon.

Hurt helps a lot to calmness,
In pain I found pleasure and peacefulness;
I must forever stick on my own set of rules,
If I go beyond limitations, I might trim my pulse.

-Marxx Archer