Poised Knife: A Poem

I hold the knife poised over my wrist.
Knowing all the while that it is only temporary insanity that has
Taken hold of me.
I brush my skin with the cool blade
Riding this lava flow of self-deceit.
I press in deeper.

Then pause Gaping at indentations in skin.

It pricks And a pearl of red pools near A pulsing vein While I wonder How much will seep
Before an end to pain.


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