Black River

I see the trace of my knife as it leaves a mark in my skin.
I wonder if it will scar that that doesn't matter to me.
I watch the blood trickle down my arm.
I wonder who I have become

I watch as the red turns to black.
The river is no longer trickling, babbling as it should.
The light fades and a new light appears.

I will trace over the scares with my knife.
They will become deeper.
The river will turn crimson once again.
As my wounds become deeper, my life becomes drowned in lies.
I will never be the same.