Jennifer L. Berry

Crimson Twilight

Copyright, Jennifer L. Berry

I was a very repetitive addicted mutilator for over 5 years. Here is just one of my many poems I have dedicated to my intense relationship with self-mutilation:

Trembling hands now rest at her side;
Sighing relief, as her time she does bide.

Blackness surrounds, with the faintest hint of light;
Festering within, she must finish the fight.

Carefully she squirms, loose of its grasp;
Writhing free, from her thick darkened past.

Rising up slowly, and just bent from pain,
She rushes to free, her soul dark and stained.

The faintest red footprints follow her there,
Mixed with her terror and the sweat from her hair.

She pushes damp clothing, down as she sighs.
Her cold sweaty palms grasp imperfect thighs.

She examines her body, and glanced to concur;
Her scarred reflection, staring right back at her.

Slipping and sliding in her own pain and strife;
Slowly she stepped into the fountain of life.

The purest water, trickles down from her form;
While rinsing clean, her soul she does mourn.

She bathes silently in crimson twilight,
Still searching for purity and losing the fight.

Written: 2001-05-23


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