Crimson Tears

My wrist cries
crimson tears
that pour forth
only when provoked.
The pain and suffering
escape from me
through the red river
that only I control.
I release it all
with the simple movement
of cold steel
on warm flesh.
Everything I feel
gets cried away
no matter
how long it takes.
Everytime my wrist
cries its sad, sad song
a little scar
marks its place,
forever to be remembered.
Crimson tears
are all I have,
and all I'll ever need.