I watch it trickle down my arm one more time
I know it wont be the last
It isn't be far the first
The skin
My skin, is now rough
the groves there from years past
and fresh marks from tonight
it feels more like the groves in wood
Not human flesh
the rag soaks up the blood
keeping it out of sight
but always there
i look down
not satisfied with the job I've done
I know this wont be the last.
It isn't by far the first.