Wet Pain

I did it again. My sleeves are wet.
Not by the motion of water but the motive of pain.
It’s stings and I thinks needs more
I kneel and I pray to my Lord. I’m in need I suffers. I quiet, pain screams. Tears flow. The wind blows against the new wound. It’s pressure.

I stare at the window hoping it shards. In my imagination, thin glass touched by my prints. Gives a bliss of bleed and I won’t stop just because of the pain. I need to see the damage, the trill of blood leaving my body. The I feel the pain. It main and subtle. Plain although red. I don’t want it to stop the pain I mean. It’s main and subtle. Plain although red.

It’s help me forget how I want to end it all
The suffer whispers.