The cutter

As flames ends darkness
And truth ends fear
She blocks the scarlet river
Flowing from her fragile wrists

Used as an exit for the pain
Built up inside her
By the home that has been torn down
By the three bulldozers called:
Drugs, poverty and neglect

With the nylon material
The only force field between life and death

The adrenalin sent through her
Gives her a sense of freedom
Freedom from corruption, criticism, and coxcombs
Ruling the streets with iron sceptres that go straight to the heart

Leaving it to bleed all its love, hope and dreams away
Leaving it as hollow as the sceptre divine

Where she goes can only be felt
Or experienced by the soul
As words can only describe a part that
Can be touched by the senses
It is a place where worries and sorrow are not part of diction
And tomorrow is tomorrow’s problem
You only live for the moment