The light is reflecting,
off the spotless blade.
How I gaze into it,
dancing it along my skin.
How I picture it in my head,
carving the pattern in my skin.
Oh so numb,
how can I be numb again?
The crimson flows,
freely down my skin,
swirling patters,
amazing flow onto my skin.
My mind is the master,
my hand is the artist,
my eye is the beholder,
and my skin is the canvas.
I'm just a cliché,
I'm depressed with a mask.
No one can see,
past my clouded eyes.
Author notes
Hope you like this
A contest entry
- Apologies by catalyst..
450 points, ended October 6, 2008, 27 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
.::.â„¢.::.Converse.Queen.::. â„¢.::.
Comments
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great work babe well duh like always right?
well i hope things are getting better:/
i love you so much your one of my girlys and always have && will be mkay
How I picture it in my head,
carving the pattern in my skin.
Oh so numb,
how can I be numb again?
this part was my fave i relate to it all to well ..xoxox
vanna -
My mind is the master,
my hand is the artist,
my eye is the beholder,
and my skin is the canvas.
I loved that verse. The imagery and metaphors in this was amazing. Though I'm usually not a fan of cutting poems, I really enjoyed this one. There was nothing "dirty pretty" about it. I also loved that this was a freshwrite. Great Write. -
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Thanks. I know when I hold contest. (Like I am now) I love freshwrites. I think for a new contest. A new poem. I'm glad you liked this poem.
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