Sultry, I'm Sure

The water is murky and the mirrors are steamed
The clocks striking twelve, but it isn't a dream
The door is locked, and her hands are shaking
The song is ending with the happiness she's faking.
Bittersweet words that float out of line,
Inside she's dying, but she whispers, "I'm fine"
Passion filled moans from the room next door
Remind her what she came here for.
Razors; knives - it's now all the same
Cutting away her deep-rooted pain.
With a slip of the hand it all comes undone
Insanity kicks in, and she laughs for the fun.
The beads they drip, whimsical and true
Red and metaphysical, this relief is overdue.
Dancing with the water, the droplets form as one
In tune with her tears and the salt that helps it run.
Her thigh is a drawing, her final work of art
But it isn't the ending; just the conclusion to the start.
The blade, it dances, as intimate as you tease
And the colours will flow, despite how you plead
Another line is drawn, because it always takes two
She sees nothing but crimson, and images of you
Parallel to the lines she worked so hard to create
Praying and wishing, but she couldn't cheat fate.
Wrapped up in shivers and cold blooded thought
She leaves the room, her battles unsought.
Heart strung creation is better left unseen
Cover up those memories of all that you've been