Color forms under the skin,
Sensations growing within.
Lost in the moment of panic,
Overcome with the manic.
Holding breath, gasping for air,
Dreaming of oxygen that isn’t there.
Going till the blood drips out,
Then go again, a true devout.
The mind in overload,
Clenching a torn fist.
Ripping open the gash,
To let the pain persist.
Sore hands now clasped and tied,
Laughing at the knife inside.
The bloody basement around,
A gag blocking out any sound.
It’s hand pressed to the throat,
Picturing a murder she wrote.
Starved in a personal drought,
The world starting to fade out.
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