Atonement

 

A single shard,

clasped hard.

 

The reflection

cast so coldly upon the surface.

I stare

as a red curtain is cast over it.

 

My fingers bleed

to fill the need.

 

Blood pools

on the floor beneath me.

So fragile.

A world that can easily be broken.

 

Rending flesh to the bone.

For my sins, I must atone.

 

I stare at my hands,

at the deep lacerations.

My soul ignores the pain.

I want more.

The pleasure in my pain,

that others find insane.

Author's Note

This is an experimental poem. I will probaly add more to it. Would like an honest opinion.

Reviews

[Bran the Broken]

So far, dark and chilling. Good, tersely worded, and strong quick images.