The metal blade
That kissed your skin
Will nor remove the pain
Nor form scars
To match the ones
Formed by betrayal upon
Your heart
The seeping blood
So crimson
Enticing
Will not wash away
They way that tears do
The sadness you may feel
Spent on people who
Mistreat you
But they are fools
And so beneath you
And their razor blade tongues
Cut into you
But you will rise above
Their hurtful words
Like blood red roses
In the snow
And from the ashes of
Your broken self
We'll see the fire of
Your beautiful spirit
And we'll have roses for ashes then
*© 2011 Vincent S. Coster
Taken from the 2011 Gothic pamphlet Nocturnes. Based on the poet's own experience of self-harm in this poem he is speaking to all who are driven to hurt themselves but does this by using the device of writing to an undisclosed individual.