Can't be Cut Away

The blood just flows
Gently off my wrists
And slowly drips
Into the carpet.
A few washes
And the stain will fade.
A little while
And the scars will appear.
Around twenty scars
For every tear,
For every word,
That brought me down
Or pushed me around.
I lose so much blood
I sometimes become dizzy,
And I try
For so long
To cease this simple release.
After the blood
Dripped onto my floor
This morning,
I wondered why
Our troubles can't be washed away,
Can't be bled or cut away,
They always remain,
Just as the scars remain
Or as the memories do.
Whether you bleed
Or sit alone in your room,
The pain in misery
The inflictions of all
Mental, emotional, and physical;
All this pain
Still feels the same.
I can't ignore it
Any better than before
The many scars,
Because behind the pain
The scars,
Drugs,
The knife,
Reflection,
Behind it all
Is still me...