dark minds [completed]

blood

you know, no one seems to

understand the fear i have

for that red stuff named

blood.

one, i hate the smell.

it reminds me of death.

of mum and of dad.

it also reminds me

of panic and emptiness

and i hate it.

two, i hate the feeling

as it dries on my skin.

the way it peels off if

i pick at it.

three, i hate the way i 

used to drag a shiny

razor blade across

my beautiful and perfect

skin, thinking that it was

an okay thing to do.

four, it reminds me

of the day my dad

shot himself, not once

but six times. 

five, it reminds me of 

the day my ma slashed

me with her kitchen knife

and left me to bleed

to nothingness.

six, it reminds me that

some time ago i was

in a very, very dark place.

and although people still

think im still there, i've swapped

blades for alcohol and blood for

tears, what more do you ask for?

i dont like blood. i hate it, i hate it

i   h a t e   it. 

fresh blood? i dont mind, it dont bother

me a whole lot. but dry blood?

get it away from me. 

dry blood is what kills me.

kills my insides, drowns me.

there were the days where i would

love my blood, be excited everytime

new cuts would appear on my 

delicate skin, but then i grew up.

i lost my parents and from that day

on, i've hated blood. 

espcically dry blood.

because dry blood means that its all real.

that death really happened.

that my mum was murdered.

that my dad killed himself

that i was a cutter.

that on the night of 17th may

2014, if it wasnt for dean, id be

dead, the blood surrounding me.

burrying me.