Saviour

• Gemma Heidemann,
• Poetry
• 2007

I slash my wrists, I feel the pain
And write in blood my burning shame
I watch it ooze from the wound
A gaping hole, Just been harpooned
Sharpen the blade for years to come And hope that no-one tells my mum
You may ask me why I cut
But it's not my fault i was born a mutt
Dig right in that sharp steel blade
And hope against hope
That the pain doesn't fade
I've punished myself to much for now
Cos the blood's running out
Like a slaughtered cow
Etched into flesh is my crusade
And Laughing is theone I've saved.