I walk to the bathtub without a plan,
Just a rotting idea and a razor in hand,
I start the water running like some kind of ritual,
My instincts secretly hint towards something spiritual.
I step into the water, a warm embrace,
I reach and expect to feel nothing but instead it’s my face,
I thought I wasn’t real, wished it with all my heart,
Then I think back about how my life is falling apart.
I lay my head back and make the first tentative cut,
Still unsure of my choice but,
I feel the blood begin to well,
Bloom from my body,
Something wild that brings feelings that I can’t begin to quell.
So I don’t fight it, why should I?
I revel in the thought that I might die.
But as much as I’d hate to admit,
This isn’t a ritual for death,
This is just a way of coping with my life.
I do not see this as “wrong”,
Because it feels so right,
You twist it to make it dark,
But you can’t blind me from it's light. |
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