Spilled Open Wrist

Open wrist almost spilled,
flesh is where the
blade almost drilled.
Go back in your head,
the place you always fled.
'Crimson red threatens to ooze,
depression isn't something
you would ever choose.'
Night is day and day is night,
the beginning is the end and
the end is the beginning where
it's easy to disappear from
who you are out of sight.
Decide well your reputation,
handle well your transformation.
Take a how to class in school,
what they never taught you
in the most important rule.
'Crimson red threatens to ooze,
depression isn't something
you would ever choose.'
Drop the blade or take it to your grave,
blackened beauty too hard to save.
It doesn't feel good once
the blood has dried,
the first cut isn't over until
you get your proper way out guide.
Angel on your shoulder mangled,
death at the same viewed
meeting strangled.
Half hearted effort,
take something more
while all you are is hurt.
Down to the ground goes the knife,
no blood drips tonight or any other
from objects sharp but all wounds
come self-made within your life.