What's
wrong with me?
a blade, serrated and rusty, is methodically removing my skin
I'm watching and feeling nothing
I
can smell the blood flowing from my arm
a
torrent of red that turned black
staring
in disbelief at what I did
the
mess I left behind
the
questions I wont answer
Just
take a good look at me
I'm
a fucken bloody mess
ask
the voices in my head
constantly
talking incoherently
I
only catch part of what they say
could
be the wires in my brain
too
many power surges, they got fried
cutting
connections, toying with emotions
preventing
me from feeling pain
Lost my grip on reality
I
saw things no one else could see
they
demanded their pound of flesh
and
threatened my mortality
though
I tried I couldn't abstain
once
again I cut my skin away
Returning
to the hear and now
where
the suffering never ends
walking
with Death I found comfort
as
if he and I were friends
last
I recalled
a
sticky red
my
thumping chest
the
calm that came with my last breath
Copyright
© 2015 Patrick B Vince
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