The blade calls my name in the dead of night. The scares stare me as I shead my clothes. A permanent reminder of the Struggles I've faced and failed to cope with. A String Of barbed wire constricts around my throat as try to reach out for help, Swearing me to secrecy, confining me in a cage I long to escape from. The desire for the Crimson River to flow from my wrist, arms, thighs, my throat only grows with every glance at the blade sent from hell. The wicked grin on its face only grows as it spits poisoned honey that flows over the blade, glinting in the light, attracting me even more as I fall for its twisted game of addiction. It's like im trying to swim with weights strapped to my feet, or trying to breathe with thick, strong hands wrapped around my throat, crushing my windpipe. One moment I think I'm fine then the next red wine pours from the gashes on my thigh pooling around me in a warm blanket, the only warmth. I've ever known. The only warmth I will ever know.