Spontaneously Combust

Fresh blood seeps out of the newly made cuts.

I drown my arm in hydrogen peroxide. 

The wounds appear to be deep and empty.

But only until the blood begins to flood out once again.

My hands shake as I hold pressure to the cuts with a towel.

There is a waterfall of tears upon my face.

I desperately fall to my knees, screaming.

Questioning God, why me?

I pull myself from panic.

With only the dim bathroom light,

I being grasping around in the cluttered cabinet,

searching for bandages or gauze wrap.

My mind is racing.

Completely flustered.

This was just a frantic attempt to regain my sanity.

I was only trying to clear my anxious thoughts,

because they're taking over me.

They're killing me from the inside, out.

Eating my soul alive.

I'm afraid my head may explode,

because I'm not able to control these thoughts.

They're full of regret and bewildered anxieties.

Now I'm left with an ocean of blood, 

covering the crappily tiled, bathroom floor.