Dark crimson streams paint my pale skin,
Making pictures out of hot oozy liquid.
A tear falls to the ground with no sound.
Eyes linger on the newly made wound,
Staring in disbelief at the crime I have just committed against my own body.
Punishing myself for being a human,
And having feelings.
The cold razor teeth of the dirk slowly leaves the once pale skin carved with beautiful streaks of blood.
The demons,
Wait to feast upon the abundant banquet now in their midst.
Their teeth become just as jagged and piercing as the dagger in my heart.
They rip at my skin,
Causing it to fall off.
The agony is unbearable.
Screams course through my limbs to my lungs.
My eyes,
Keep rolling to the back of my head,
Forcing me in and out of consciousness.
The pain forces tears to steam and mix in with the blood.
YOU ARE READING
Short Poems
PoetryWritten: October 23, 2017 By: Jessica Thompson Short poems put together through time December 19, 2016 to current days. So please enjoy, they are my thoughts, and feelings, and everything.
