Narrow Veins

Your will to live slowly dwindles to nothing.
I am witnessing the massacre of one’s self
Before my eyes and I cannot tear myself away.
My bloodlust overtakes when I see the knife
Withdraw from your narrow veins.
Coursing, treading down your wrist
Taking its time to fall to the ground.
You’ve lost it all with nothing to show but scars
Revealing the past in a gruesome manor.
Damage done, forever embedded in your fragile skin.
You’re no longer shy to the gleam of the blade.
Only dullness of the edge impedes perpetuation.
The masochist searches frantically for a fix
The reflection in the mirror in hauntingly altered.
Throw your fist to the glass, shattered into a web,
Taking shards in hand with a relentless grasp.
Blood pours from the narrow veins and jagged flesh.
The innocent always fall first
Weak to themselves, unreliable minds.
Trust in yourself seeps away to the floor
Who can believe when your life is a lie?