Red

Like red, wet snakes.
Slithering, slipping, sliding down my arm, painting my skin a deep red.
The burning.
The stinging.
Reminds me I am real.
Comforting me when I'm sure the world is against me.
The pain helps subside my emotions at least for a little while.
And when it fades, I roll up my sleeve, breathe, and cut.
Red tears, popping out like perfect droplets.
Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.
Smooth like nothing's there.
Look closer, you'll see it. A faint line.
Straight. No curves. Perfection.
Is it an obsession?