Blood Red Winter

It's so hard to resist,
letting blood bleed from my wrists.
The urge,
burning deep inside of me.
Eating me aliving,
I thrive.

I tell myself it'll go away,
to never emerge from its' dwelling place.
It keeps returning,
stronger than before.
More frequent than before.
I beg for a blood red winter.
Maybe if I try again,
I might just win.

Last slice to my wrist,
it took so long to mend.
I stare at it everyday,
hoping it'll just go away...