Two years ago I cut myself
in the heart
i bled - everywhere
the blood stained everything
my clothes
my walls
my mind
and a whole year went by
the bleeding slowed
but somehow I missed the deep red pain
so I took the same razor
and opened the wound again
this time - more blood
dripping out of me, staining everything, over again
my skin
my words
my paper
and now, another year has passed
and again I am missing the blood
i cut again
nothing comes out
i am empty
I am drained
