A poem

2003-11-09 at 5:53 p.m.

Joyful Cut

I love to watch the progress
of the cuts upon my wrist
how they open so neat and bloody
where my razor blade once kissed.

I love to mark new scars
on the surface of my arm
and watch them as they fade away
till my next dose of harm.

I love my cuts and scars
my blood and razor blade,
my body tells my story
in the marks that I have made.

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