Staring out the cracked stain glass window,
Alone. Hurt. Cold.
Your mind whet,
Memories replay,
As your heart beat sounds louder.
A person's reflection can be seen,
In the colorful stain glass,
Where yours should be.
Pain is reflected in their eyes,
A knife in their hand,
Like the one in yours.
The pain heightens,
The knife's teeth reaches your wrists,
And the reflection follows.
You take in a deep breath,
Push the steel into your skin,
Your rush. Your addiction. Your form of E.
No longer alone.
The room seems to light around you.
White. Divine. Blissful.
Your no longer hurt.
Your painful memories seem to dissolve.
Clear. Magical. Unexplainable.
No longer cold.
A rush of warmth sweeps through your body.
Orange. Powerful. Delightful.
It lasts for a minuet or two,
A moment of peace,
A time of ease.
Then, isolation surrounds you once again,
The pain returns,
And the warmth beneath your skin is replaced once more with ice.
Then your temporary escape ends,
You turn back to the inviting steel teeth,
And the need for a new thin cut deep into your wrists temps you.
One more slender cut.
Another drop of blood.
Your medication. Your Ecstasy.
