Always cutting with the wire.
I know that My Life is always For Hire.
Fenced up to keep in whatever,
on a post, it seems to be the most.
I find the pointed barb
and place it above my wrist,
Repeatly go over in one place that fits.
Not too deep, but enough for me
to survive awhile (I hope).
It's like having someone else
to hold the knife,
on the occasion that the person
making me cut,
holds the wire tight,
ready and unknowing.
If they knew,
they'd want to change,
but for some strange reason,
I like this pain.
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