a poem....
I am not afraid of the razorblade
It's unsetting the cold steel grazing my skin
But i will not give in to the fear
Why fear this?
There is an inevitabily in death
It's unnevering to feel
The hot blood pouring down my hand
But I refuse to fear
Why bother?
In the end, we all die.
I'm greeted by death
As I take this
Final Bloodbath
i guess i'm starting to fear
the things i love-
in some cases
because it is the pain itself
and in some cases
because of how deeply
i'm willing to let it sting
it's just a razorblade kiss,
and if it goes french on me,
it will all be over soon
: i'm not afraid
of the razor blade.
i'm just shaking in fear
when that blade gets near
my arms while grasped
in my desperate hand.