Arms Poem by Hayleyy Dawn

I was cut by an ignorant sculptor.
A secret addiction
Which nobody knew.
She drove the razor across my skin
Expecting my tears to be blue.

Surprised was she when velvet
Came tricking down my hand.
She covered me up like treasure
Buried beneath the sand.

Soon the lines grew deeper;
I knew the blade would win.
Feelings were carved upon my wrists;
Made for paper not skin.

My tears kept pouring crimson red;
The blood would soon run dry.
She went too far and sliced a vein;
Now we were left to die.

The numbness made her smile;
She knew she’d soon be done.
My open wounds breathed one last breath.
The sculptors’ tool had won.