The harsh light glistens off the cold steel blade.
A crimson line on the white flesh made.
Confusion, Failure, Heartache and Torment.
Frustration follows this bitter lament.
No sound is made for others to hear.
Only a cacophony of thoughts, echoing behind ears.
The release of a friend, that no-one else knows.
Imprisoned inside her till the warm blood flows.
Her eyes moist with tears, of guilt and of fear
Knowing the thoughts of those she holds dear.
The pain and the voices, like crowds in her head.
Are smothered by blood as she lies on the bed.
A moment of peace that follows the storm
Of quietened voices, herself she’s reborn.
But alas it don’t last, for soon she will find;
Her senses return, till again she feels blind.
A careless remark, A glance in the mirror.
The guilt at her thoughts, so straight to her inner.
Paranoia she handles, like its an old friend.
But it betrays her once more, driving her round the bend.
Like ‘Floyds’ famous song, another brick in the wall.
Till too high it stands and is destined to fall;
The blade is the tool that chips away at the pain;
Her flesh is the wall; Her blood is her gain.
Don’t judge those please who need to see red;
Of their blood, they use to cleanse whats trapped in their heads.
Without this they would most truly go mad.
So silence they gain, so i ask please be glad.
“I’m sorry” she whispers, “Don’t hate me for this”
“But sometimes i need to get lost in this bliss”.
No more pain for a while to herself and to others.
To her friends, to her children, to her father and mother.
“Its not aimed at you, in fact the reverse”.
Its their protection to you, it could be a lot worse.
Only ourselves do we harm, but that doesn’t matter.
For that few moments of peace, not being mad as a hatter.