The First Burning

a little blue lighter
a girl know as being a fighter
a needle once used in sewing, but not anymore

a slender wrist with blue veins
plastic the color of desert rains
and a needle heated until red to the core

a gentle swipe, a gentle impression
not an inch, not so big to draw attention
she had been crying but the tears were now from pain

three red lines on her right wrist
barely noticable with bracelts above her fist
she needn't a razor just hot metal to make her sane

no infection, no blood to make a mess
and there is no one in which to confess