Sense Poem by Beth Mc'Neil

I prick my finger upon a thorn
Watch the blood bead
I flinch and run my fingers under the water
Its hotter than I thought it would be and I go to pull away
But something in the back of my mind beckons me to stay
Then the water stops
Just stops and I freeze
I can feel someone behind me
Their breath is hot and sticky on the nape of my neck
And as they lean in to whisper something in my ear
I spot the razor on the sink and my mind
My beautiful mind doesn't even let me stop to think
I grab it and plunge it into my attacker only to feel a sharp pain myself
And as I stand there blood running down my chest
Forming rivulets of sharp red against pale white skin
I see myself in the mirror for the first time as I really am
A monster