Arm Art.
When I was young, I was good at art.
Spent a while practising the craft.
With the moonlight through the window.
I would rest my arm on the pillow.
With a sharp compass point in hand.
I would start etching out my plan.
At first the gentle mark on the skin.
Then I would let the drawing begin.
What I would cut could be anything.
Sometimes it was stupid little things.
Could be the latest girlfriend’s name.
Maybe a noughts and crosses’ game.
Outline done when happy with everything.
Then I would push the compass further in.
Watching as my young arms slowly bled.
Dying all my artwork a nice bright red.
Seeing the blood flow was a slow release.
It kind of brought me a little inner peace.
The deep cuts never caused me much pain.
However, many times I did it over again.
At the time I felt it was setting myself free.
Yet all these years later.
The scars and the memories are still with me.
Tobani May 2025.