The River

There is a river that flows slowly

In many different directions and it is hypnotizing.

To watch the stream move slowly and cascade to different depths.

Watching this I intake a deep breath.

And make another path so all of them will join together.

It excites me to see them flow as one.

The canvas is my arms and legs, my instrument is a razor blade.

I tried to stop myself, but I needed the pain.

I am disappointed in myself I wish I could stop myself.

I have tried many different ways to express the havoc I feel.

But no one listens. I only can speak with this paper and pencil.

There are times I am strong and can ignore the nagging to do this again.

But eventually I always give in.

To feel that pinch and watch the river flow

and for some time escape this ache I know.

That twists my heart begging to be freed.

The smell of copper and feeling its slow descent,

down to the floor it drip...drip...drips

Tonight I fight to say no...

This river shall not flow.

I do not deserve this hurt.

I have been strong for so long, but I feel my forces getting weaker.

I don't know if I can battle any longer.

My warriors are on their knees and need reinforcements,

they are tired looking to me begging to retreat.

So what do I do now?

I am not sure, 

but I will not add to the many scars.

That show of how I almost lost the battle time and time again.

Maybe I can paint on a different canvas, and make a different river that is blue,

and watch as it flows together into something new.