Slicing pale skin,
The sliding knife cuts me deep,
Blood floods out crimson,
The comfort of red I shall keep.

Knives have touched me more of late,
The feelings of sadness, loneliness, guilt,
And ultimately self hate,
Cause crimson drops to color pale flesh.

In the children's closets,
Under the kids bed,
Or the most destructive monster,
That lives inside our ******* heads.

Blood,
Slow running,
Red,
Fascinating.

Again I sigh,
Cold in sweat,
Sitting high,
Up on my bed,

I realize,
the curse that is dreams,
Soft and sweet,
Till suddenly filled by screams,

So different they are at the start,
But only then will darkness come,
The black consumes your heart,
After all that's where nightmares are from,

In my nightmare,
I feel lost,
I feel fear,
I pay the ultimate cost.