A Cutter's Last Fight

There is no energy left in my bones.
No hope left in my heart.
Red lines lace my arms.
Color of roses puddles around my feet.
Petals, swirling silently.

The pen in my hand,
same,
as the knife on my wrist.
It carves beautiful lines,
beautiful words,
beautiful pictures upon us all.
The coloration, divine.

The will.
Where are you, my dear?
Save me from this agony.
I hate the desire,
the pain,
this messed up game I'm in.

Tears run down my cheeks.
Rivers through my soul.
Icy, it burns my flesh.
I feel myself caving in.
No shield to fend.
The sword crashes within.

Crumbling down,
ash in the wind.
Fly on by,
to the rose garden.
Little ladies in red,
the dirt,
their bed.
Thorns on their hips,
red lines on their arms.

This life,
not what I wanted.
Not what I planned.
I never wanted this darkness,
twisting,
turning,
fighting within.