Pass me the Knife

You told me a long time ago how painful the sorrow of snow, when winter winds blow; knife fights in dark alleys.
Bottle shards cut through my veins leaving me a bloody mess, to tame to remember the past.
Eye lids slashed and sealed in wax, the imprint of all that has been abandoned; nails pulled off without hesitation.
Such beautiful pain...please, make me bleed; hurt me unconditionally so that I may feel.
Pass me the razor, I wish to carve out my heart; plated upon a golden platter served with a side of hatred.
The world turns to the blinding wind, ashes rubbed on open wounds; salted to taste. Please...give me pain.