The Deepest of Cuts

Tue, 05/28/2013 - 23:10 -- Kosi J.

A single breath
One with no meth
Last time, I agree
Never, now I see

My arms, in the light of the bar
Are covered in hundreds of scars
Some bottomless and some shallow
And my wallet, very hollow

From all of the medical supplies
I try not to let suspicion arise
With the alcohol and butterfly strips
As of the little sliver metal chips

The last time I tell myself
Press the blade down on oneself
The lava flows down my arm
Onto my sheets, giving harm

My mother ironed the hem
With the little sharks on them
Recall the love, tears a flood
And now they’re covered with blood

Stained with deep scarlet frown
And evil crispy brown
A reek that won’t go away
Brown forever to stay

I got the mattress from my drafted father
Who got shot, defeat, by his enemy’s brother
Falling to swift casualty in the woods
And the notice received on my mother’s hood

That park with father, that time
Told me he loved the climb
We’d gotten some great snow
But that was years ago

He’s long missing, devoid of a warning
Mother’s birthday, now a day for mourning
All the letters now on the mantle place
Saying he’d be home, together with grace

How could I do this, ever?
His last gift, forever
I’m ruining the vast glee
So as to nauseate me

He would be so fuming if he knew
I would be grounded badly askew
But right now I wish he’d say I’m grime
Just so I could see him one more time

The tears drop off my face, flown
Grateful that I was alone
Because mother worked late.
I grab my arm with such weight

As I curse out my scars and the blood
The Money gone, could’ paid for the flood
Because mom can’t do it alone
Yea… that is fitting, I declare grown

Yes, not mother, but mom
I wipe blood with my palm
My blood wrecks those sheets, scoff
Hoping I’ll get it doff

But with no avail. It’s here to stay
So the soft gauze warps my arm in a grey
Blanket like a warm cloud hiding the blood
And making it stop being a flash flood

No more, I am all done
No more cuts, and no gun
Do it for mom and dad.
The phone rings on the pad

Coming from mom and she says she will be home soon
Grabbing food, I don’t need to cook under this moon
I tell her it’s alright; I want to make dinner
So I can see her smile again like a winner

I can tell her I’m sorry
Under this night so starry
So I can get well again
And break though this metal shackle

To leave this pain, my history
Wish to rewind back hindmost blind
Time to a place of joy, not war
Pain I will long for no more.


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