Words are Knives

A Single Pin's Prick

Every thing
Starts with one
small
Pinprick

This sword of agony
started with

A single pin
But
It grew
A thick, dull blade
Spreading pain
Like one spreads butter

The tiny knife
Sharpened itself against
The wet-stone of my tears
And became a dagger
Forcing its way
Into my skull
Splitting apart
Bone, skin, flesh

A saber now,
Sliced into my thoughts
Sawing at mental ropes
And severing my hope

And I see in my hand
The same blade
Spelling out the
Silent screams
On my torn body

Cutting my thoughts
Into my pale
Scarred
Skin

~based off something my cousin wrote