Bloody Poem

Today is World Poetry Day
And the only poem I can think of
Begins with my blood and ends with my ashes
Scattered pieces of me cold while the glass smashes
All-consuming darkness when the light flashes
Air torn from my lungs as the light passes
 
Welcome to my world in poetry
I'll rhyme in scars
And leave emotional suicide notes
Carve deep into the skeletons in my closet
For bones to rattle that no one will hear
A soft voice pleas for the chill to take over
The pain will be still if I simply turn to ice
There's no love for me, none to warm the atmosphere
I guess this is where I'll die
Desperate hands reach out and get nothing to hold in return
And soon they will tire of reaching
No one is listening, that's what the heart will learn
The brain will see that no one's reading
 
Because no one likes poetry
When it's written in anxious desperation
No one cares for the troubled and sorrowful
They just say to acquire a pen with false positive affirmations
But a pen made of lies has only jagged edges
I grabbed it for a lifeline and cut myself deep
Exposed flesh awakened a hunger for my soul
Darkness consumed the pen as it began to seep
I could be next for the kill
And oh what it a thrill
It would be to be eaten alive
Instead I drew blood
And wrote a little poetry with my fingers
To see if it would help me survive
 
And to know if anyone reads poems written in fermented flesh
By people who come close to seeing the colour of death