She sees the glinting silver of the blade

She knows that she shouldn’t do it

¨I am stronger than that, I can resist,

I made him a promise, I can’t break it already¨

But she can’t resist, she has to do it

She has to cut

She loves seeing the way it changes her skin,

turning her wrist into a bittersweet red,

her blood pooling into a crimson circle,

the tickling feeling of it running down her arm,

She makes cut after cut, like a painter on a canvas,

making her own depressing work of art

She runs it over the puckered rose scars,

splitting them back open and letting go.

She digs it in deeper, and deeper,

letting the blood spill to the floor

letting all of her pain go with it

falling under the spell of the blade

She can’t make herself stop until too late

She passes out on the bathroom floor

blood all around her, blade in hand

She broke her promise, not thinking about him

Her parents are now burying their baby,

while he is trying not to go down her path,

Falling slowly under the spell of the blade.