Kathryn Dee

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Crimson Tears

The numbness,
the pain,
the hurt.
Boils under my skin,
pulses through my entire body.

The need,
the want,
the desire.
To let it pour out,
to cleanse my sorrows.

The words,
the cries,
the screams.
That no one ever hears,
the don't want to.

The abandonment,
the aloneness
that eats at my soul.
Is the cause of this action,
this addictive release.

And so,
I hide within myself.
Inside my sweater,
behind my hair,
a shell of who I used to be.

I see this sheet,
white as snow,
calling, screaming
for a dose of colour.
The rubbing of that 'crayon'.


Those droplets,
the bubbles,
are a marking,
written by a demon.
He scrawls into my heart.

My throat, then, closes up
once the CЯ І MЅ OИ Т Е А Я Ѕ fall,
slip and slide
down my scarred flesh,
as another [one-line] story is written.

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