Damsel in Distress

I hold the edge close to my vein,

Shaking with guilt and anxiety.

My tears flow softly and smoothly,

Sanitizing the blade with salt water.

Slowly, I raise my face to the mirror

To view my scars and bloodshot eyes.

Hmmpph, self-bruising and abuse,

Only takes the pain away temporarily.

The contrast between silver and red

Reminds me of a civil time in my life,

When life didn’t render me psychotic

And imbalanced in my body and mind.

I bring myself back to reality and focus

On the present task literally in my hand.

I dig the edge into the almond dermis

And magically a crimson fountain flows.

I am a damsel in distress releasing

Myself from pain and deep sorrow,

These teardrops mixed with blood,

Cleanse my worn-out soul and heart.

–by Maria Mocha © 2010


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