The Color of my Soul

With this knife of bone      
torn from my rib        
I hold in shaking fist    
and aimed toward my heart        
my hands sweaty and cold        
I plunge    
like a lovers trust        
deep into my heart of stone        
self hatred and anger        
refusing to die        
with this offering of sacrificial blood        
on the alter of my sins        
dear god let this purify my soul        
I so very much want to live        
without self loathing        
unchained by hate        
red the color of my soul        
now decorating my blouse        
leaving me serene        
have I finally won free        
of madness and anger        
as self hatred    
slowly spills red on the floor       
the knife of bone slipping        
through fingers to weak to see        
that death does not lead        
anywhere        
but        
to        
the        
dark