While my blood seeps from open veins,
Scattering around, easing my pains,
A rush of relief floods through my core,
Addicted to hurt, I crave it more.

In control, I find my dark delight,
Wounds of others fade from sight,
Their scars and pain I now defy,
As my own cuts bleed dry.

Tired, yet alive in this morbid game,
Anxiety's grip and panic's flame,
Watching blood drip, feeling pain's embrace,
Calms my soul, slows my frantic pace.

Madness, they say, but they can't see,
This world’s cruelty is too much for me,
With each deep cut, I find my way,
Blurry eyes, sluggish mind, I sway.

Tears flow, pain sharp, but all else fades,
In this escape, my soul cascades,
Deep within my own design,
In blood and pain, I find my line.

Each slash a whisper, soft and low,
A silent scream that none shall know,
In crimson trails, I chart my path,
Away from fear, away from wrath.

Every droplet, a fleeting breath,
A dance with life, a brush with death,
In these moments, I reclaim,
A fractured sense of fleeting fame.

The world outside, a stormy sea,
But here, in pain, I'm truly free,
With every cut, I carve my space,
In bleeding lines, I find my grace.

While others see a mind undone,
In this act, my solace won,
A paradox of hurt and peace,
Where all my inner turmoil cease.

They call it madness, a twisted guise,
But in my wounds, I find the skies,
A realm where only I can reign,
In this ritual of blood and pain.

In this cycle, night and day,
I navigate my own dismay,
Through each cut, a silent plea,
To understand this darkened sea.

Yet even in this blood-stained trance,
A part of me seeks one last chance,
To find a way, to heal, to mend,
This broken path, a way to end.

But until then, my solace lies,
In the crimson flow, beneath my eyes,
In pain and tears, my heart's refrain,
A testament to my silent pain
© _areesha