Blood Poem by Stephan van Pinksteren

Blood covering the sheets,
Cuts to mark the source.
I can see the wounds clearly,
Because they’re mine of course.

With the knife still in my hand,
I walk up to my family.
They will never notice,
The wounds they can’t see.

Blood covered the guilt.
The mind made it just.
I can see it bleeding.
It’s a feeling I trust.

It’s a thought I believe in.
Something that’s not a lie.
And I did it all by myself,
So there is no need to cry.

Blood the fuel of my pain.
Scars unseen by shame.
Relentless I keep on cutting,
There is no one else to blame.