Little cuts

FYI: I wrote this poem when I was 15.

All the little cuts you make
bleed and drip to the floor
in a pool so deep red
and sticky, the smell
makes you want to gouge
the knife in even deeper
so more of the life giving
blood will drop to the floor
and no longer be life giving
and the smell excites you and
you can not help
but take the tip of
your tongue and lick the
blood off and the taste
is invigarating that you want
more blood so you dig
the knife deeper into her
neck and lick the blood
off her until she does
not move anymore