Dark room
She can barely see her hands, which should be shaking...
Quaking under the enormity of what she is about to do...
Hard chair
Feeling like a plush armchair...
She finds the straight uncomfortable back a solace to her soul
Cold blade
Glinting in the moonlight that creeps in through drawn curtains...
Winking at her...
Taunting her...
Daring her to do it if she thinks she is brave enough...
Cream and peaches skin
A canvas for her gruesome, beautiful artwork...
Networks of scars
Each a story on it's own
Raised skin on her wrists,
Blemishes on her arms
Beautifully hideous...
A storm of emotions
A raging whirlpool, a screaming vortex
Threatening to draw her in, **** her into it's depth...
She screams internally, looking for a way out,
Begging for a form of release before she is lost as a sailor at sea.
And blade meets skin
In a whisper, a split second,
In a flash of steel, and a splash of red
The dam breaks open...
She sighs, relief coursing through her...
As she escapes her inner turmoil...

(Cutting Trigger Warning!)

She studied the blade
That she held in her hand
While she braced for the pain
She’d learned to withstand

It shined like the snow
On a cold winter’s day
And bit into her skin
In the same bitter way

It fell like the rain
Plummeting from the sky
It drenched her in pain
As it pummeled her thigh

She watched through dry eyes
She was too numb to weep
But her skin cried in blood
As the slick blade cut deep

But after each raindrop
Her blade rose like the sun
Desperate for warmth
She didn’t care what she’d done

And once it was over
Sunburns littered her skin
But for a breath she could feel
Despite the frostbite within