Acts of Contrition

Copyright Kristin

Wash the blood off of the glass
Funny how these feelings never last
Pray that it won’t bleed through
‘Cause you know what will happen if you do
Persecution raining down on your religion
As you stroll so casually through the kitchen
Hoping eyes mistake your fear for calm
Wearing a smile to mask the fact that your world’s come undone
Now back to your room, as quick as you please
To lay on your bed and roll up your sleeves
Both relieved and alarmed that no one saw
These proofs of your worship, this stigmata

Subculture of the Hurting

Copyright Kristin

What makes these cuts so beautiful
These crimson rivers so powerful
The sight of blood so paralyzing
Fresh flesh under a razor blade so hypnotizing
Each scar a kiss from a hated lover
Proof of infidelities to another
So many of us bleeding saints
What kind of picture do we paint
Some see us as deviant or horrifying
Others as weak and self-gratifying
Just because we wear our pain on the outside
Don’t they understand each cut is a step back from suicide?


Copyright Kristin

This numbness
No feeling when all you know is absence
How did we become this
Suicidal abcess
How does it end
When nothing is there
Try to pretend
But your soul is as blank as your stare
And the truth is
No one ever really cares…

Sweet Songs

Copyright Kristin

My heart will sing
The sweet death
As it drips from
My soul

The silver song
It frees my soul
From its unripe

A taste of such beauty

I long
Night and day
For my

Free my soul
To the depts.
Of pain

So I may
Feel such beauty
That I have
Sung before


Copyright Kristin

The act of slicing you arms.
The feeling of the pain in the
The replacement it serves.
Every cut with a different emotion
Behind it. The release it gives.
The secret it that lives.
The guilt that you get.
The world that you end up in.
You feel like you’re flowing through
With no end.
The spinning feeling like you’re in a room
Of mirrors and can’t find your way out.
It’s like losing control over everything, and
Can’t get the breaks to work.
It’s like a sickness that’s hard to break.
It’s something that you learn to hate.
But you can’t stop, cause it takes the
You feel like you’re going insane.
Cutting. Say it with me cutting doesn’t
Sound so bad. Call it what it is though
Self-mutilation. Now you get a different


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