Parade

he liked how the colours seemed so different from his skin. he liked the raw crimsons, the flowing dark reds, the scabbed scarlet lines. streaming down his wrist, his arm. he watched it.

it felt good. 

he held the small thin sheet of cool metal between his thumb and forefinger. he brought it closer to his eye, examining. watching the red dry. it would turn brown by morning. 

quickly.

he pierced the flesh. more red flowed out. he hadn't realised how much he missed it until now.

he watched it gush, gushing, flowing, drain from his body. he saw white. 

~

these people i know are too good for what they do for me every day, night, season.

yet could i ever kill myself here? to stain my blood in this place?

but this place is too beautiful to be further ruined by my existence.

this place can't be for me at all. this place is for you.

so searching for somewhere that's worthy, she found a pit, as black, and as deserving as she was worthy of.

beneath the earth was where she belonged.

~

i wish that sometimes, i was non-existent to the world.

i wish that sometimes, the people i know, didn't know me at all.

i wish that sometimes... maybe... i didn't have words to write, and words to speak.

because then at least, i couldn't parade myself for the world to see.

i hate myself for it.