I Hold A Knife In My Hand
Sneering and up-turned noses
I Lower It slightly; It Is Now Closer To My Wrist
Raised fists and nicknames
It Feel Cold Against My Skin
Hate filled eyes and notes on my locker
A Smooth Red Line Appears, Followed By A Sharp Pain
Pushes and meaningful silences
It Feels Good, My Concentration Sharpens
Raised lips and sarcastic comments
Is That Cut Straight?
Bruises and ink lines drawn on wrists
This Time I Press Harder Keeping The Knife Steady
Spitting and cut like movements
I Check it; Perfect
Raised voices and salty tears
Everything Goes black
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