Slice. Cut. Butcher.*
When a person hears those words they think:
Meat. Wound. Deli.*
When I hear those words I think:
Skin. Blood. Pain.

I'm too much of a coward, I can't **** myself.
But I can hurt myself.
And that has relieved my pain.
Now I am numb.
I can no longer feel anything.

I've given up everything.
My friends. My family. My life.
I have devoted myself to my pain.
Sooner or later my life will end.
I don't want anyone to know the real me.

I can't fight the tears that flood down my face,
like the blood flows from my tan skin onto the floor.
Now everything is a blur. I can feel myself getting weaker.
The last image I see is,
red.

Red
for roses, and hearts.
Red
for blood, and fear.
**Red