I have this shard of glass
Safely tucked into my wrist
My blood runs over it washing it clean
I see my grave in it whenever I'm sad sometimes
A curved opaque headstone
"Here lies dearly beloved"
The dirt freshy tilled with my tears
The stone shiny and whitewashed
Red streaks down the back
Sometimes I take out the shard
And I flit it between my fingers
The blood oozing down my arm
Liquid coating my pants
And when I slide the shard back in
The blood dries
The world stops spinning
And I can breathe evenly
Except I can't see my future anymore