Depressing Poetry

Wrists

Wrists 

There for jewelry right 

They are for me until the night 

That when I get the blade 

And all my fears seem to fade 

As I watch the blood drip down my wrists 

I clench my hand into a fist 

To help "ease the pain"

But really it's all in my brain

As I dab my wrist with a tissue 

I promise myself that I won't be an issue 

Thats when I will again 

Draw a butterfly on wrist with a pen

But when its gone 

Its not soon redrawn 

Instead my wrist is laced in blood 

Its flowing like a flood 

I patch it up so I can go to paint 

Still feeling faint 

But theres a twist 

The paint brush is a razor and the canvas is my wrist