A simple blade
Treading the skin so carefully
That the blood only glistens at the top of the wound
A simple cut
That doesn't bring pain
But let's the blood pool below
Skin is fragile
Easily broken by both accidents and words

I'm called an artist when I draw someone else
I'm called selfish when I draw myself

A year before she died we walked around the melting snow
She had told me that she envied it
And I always thought that it was because of the beauty of it
Or how it sparkled in the sun
I only found out when I read the note
That she had left on her bed
That she hadn't wished for beauty
She wished to fade away

Thinking carefully comes with being paranoid
And rational thoughts are all you try to maintain
But rationality doesn't help when dealing with death
Because knowing something can disappear so fast seems impossible
So we block it out
And don't react
Even when we know the end is the realist thing in the world
We close our eyes and say goodbye
Thinking that they just went on a trip
And we will see them again soon

I think I might be ill
Because my head does loops trying to express itself
And the morbid fascinates me
Blood and guts were roses in a garden that was so beautiful
And pain was the same as happiness
A rare and joyous feeling
Yes, I am sick
But it is a disease that is slowly spreading
As more become desensitized to graphic imagery
And more of us wish to see something new
Something that makes us ponder