On Paper

On paper
A verbal representation
Of ragged, rusty, razor blade
Cuts, running deep in
Fresh white silk
Giving way to
Crimson, fever, frantic
Burning, bubbling up
Like magma unable hold back
Slowly taking over everything
All encompassing, erasing
Reflections, dust coated
By snow being shovelled
With that same rusty blade
Deep grooves now forming
And being swept up,
With a breath in,
Inhaling the sinful
Lust of selfish thoughts
Destruction of self
Destructive, denial
Withholding what may
Be helpful in ending
The midnight massacre
Head, hung, helpless
Over blank, salt water
Soaked pages, begging
The absence of their appearance
If only to save
The one holding the
Self loathing and pen in hand
Putting down the
Last, logical, option
On paper.

Earlier this week I wrote something way more lighthearted than I felt. And that was going to be my next post. Well tonight I finally let some pent up emotions out and this is the result. I think it may be the darkest thing I’ve posted on here and that makes me a bit nervous. But it just feels a lot more right for right now. So viola.


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