Poems//Paris Grose

Control

Take that fucking blade to my hips
But blood won't drip.
What comes out is more more,
It's the pain I've been feeling deep in my core.

This physical attraction,
To the pain inducing distraction,
Is the only way I can control what I feel,
because my mind is spinning like a broken wheel.

This comforting blade I take in my hand,
Gives me the release of relief I demand.
My head saying 'Stop, I know you can!'
But my heart saying 'Baby that isn't the plan.'