The tangry sense of blood fills my senses as I close my eyes. Blinding myself to the sight, I continued my game. Slice. Blood. Drip. Wince. Slice. Blood. Drip. Wince. I felt the blood pooling together in my palm, running through my outstretched fingers like water, thinly applied and just as shimmering. I opened my eyes. The word stood out perfectly against pale skin, surrounded by the other small gashes. I felt the anger rise within me again and I brought down the assailant, slicing quickly through the fine sheet of porcelain, slicing through the pieces of my broken heart. The stinging turned into a dull numbing and I looked down, satisfied with my work. The thin streams of liquid poured despondently onto the hardwood floor, darkening in hue. My heart was uplifted as I admired my masterpiece. The thick feeling of satisfaction permeated within me and for a few seconds, I forgot how broken I was. I forgot how imperfect I was and how PERFECT I strove to be. My head felt light as the blood continued to exude out of my original composition. I knew I didn't cut deep enough to kill, but I was highly satisfied. Hormones flew and I felt tears welling up in my eyes. Blinking them away rapidly, I picked up my felon once more and slashed viciously, tearing open the newborn prey, screaming in anguish and brokenness. My heart twisted in agony as tears mixed with cruor. I couldn't feel a thing and I cried in despair. Criss crossing delicately across my arms, I noticed the dancing patterns of the pinkish old scars amongst the re-opened lacerations. My heart continued to throb dully and I wiped away the tears. Clearing up my supplies, I left my artwork out to dry, staring at it with a sickening contentment. I wasn't perfect. But one day I would be.
As a permanent reminder I gazed lovingly onto my newest creation.
P E R F E C T
A/N: I had quite the problem earlier in life....
