morbidly moved to masochism

Morbidly moved to masochism

She draws the knife upon her skin

It ripples slowly, smoothly

A line of red behind, so brightly thin

And now she moves the blade an inch

Then once more draws the blade along

The flesh so supple warm and soft

The blade so hard so cold and strong

A slow small slip and deeply cut

The skin folds back and blood boils forth

A hotly surging tide of red

That pulses fast onto the floor

A wince of pain and then a smile

Of pleasure lights upon her face

The thrill of steel held in hand

To nurture death and pain displace

The dreadful empty feel of life

Without a purpose or a goal

Blood and pain at least succeed

In pulling her from this dark hole

Put there by a hand that looked

To help but was it’s evil twin

She followed it’s direction thinking

In this she would surely win

Only after she became enthralled

 and stricken by delight

The direction turned to pain

For pleasure pulsing every night

Now she sees that everyday

Some pain inflected’s what she finds

Relieves her soul of pressure

Placed upon her by the drawn lines

The world she lives in forces

On the beings who inhabit here

Without pain the tortured calling

That she has, becomes her fear

Wherein she can find that help

Is given nothing done is free

Pain the world inflects with smiles

Easy found and given thee

Wonder where it takes her

Wonder where that she will end

Could a helping hand of love

Change the path she’s taken then

Guide her steps to light and life

Where pain is not the goal sought

All the love of pain inflicted

Twisted tortures evil wrought

Upon herself and all this world

Knows this envelopes those around

Growing swiftly, broken people

Provide evil fertile ground

Not the end we wish but still

This happens more times everyday

Left alone all evil grows

It never stops it never stays

A small light in the darkness

Is all the brightness needed for

Guiding one through half true lies

To truth outside a now seen door

Unlike lies and evil smiles

Truth is never in your face

It sits in patience waiting

For us all to find a brighter place

Not marred by pain and suffering

Or torn apart by evil greed

A place of lines so clean and fine

Beside a wealth of what we need

To change the tortured calling

That this world has brought us to

Leave us not a shell here burnt by hell

But something fine so clean and true

Morbidly moved to masochism

She draws the knife upon her skin

And stops…to find

A smile is all it takes to win

 P.A.C.