My final post.

The scar on my chest is healing nicely.
But I still want to slice me.
Open and dig through the flesh.
Cut it open afresh.
And get to my heart.
Tear it appart.
I'm sick of the pain.
Over agian.
I say these things.
Look these stings.
The hurt quite a bit.
So I'll slip.
Between the ribs.
Pull till it slips.
Out of my grip.
Lands on the floor.
Stitch up the gore.
And become cold once more.
-H