The Sin Seeps Out

I slide the stealthy knife across my skin,
I feel its cold and sharp steel tease,
I look down upon my warm wrist,
At the harsh knife resting there.

The tears flow from my eyes,
As I contemplate what to do,
The tears wet my shaking cheeks and
Dribble down my dry stretched neck.

I drag the knife gently along my wrists,
My meticulous mind controlling every movement,
My heart willing, pleading for it to stop.
My mind pushes my body further and further.

The knife no longer controlled by me,
But controlled by my inner demons,
Slowly pierces my flesh at the wrist.
The stroke is quick leaving a long and thin mark.

The rich red juice drips from my wounded wrist,
Drip by drop, each bead taking
A fragment of time off my lifespan.
My eyes glaze over and the room spins.

I fall to the floor and lie there
awhile,
My wrist cradled in my other hand,
Now my garments are covered in my blood,
As the sin seeps out of my body forever.