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Self-Jubilation
Copyright, Christine
Blood filters the hurt inside,
Out comes the residue I manage to hide.
Each sensation magnified with red,
A touch of life exposes this dead.
A damned me feels revived.
In too deep I have dived.
Cares drown in this sudden bliss,
Wordly sanaties my mind dismiss.
Breathing in, I hear the clock tick,
Its merely a sound compared to the prick.
Blood bubbles to the top,
Then by force its starts to drop.
Through each crak it makes its way,
Down my skin it slides and play.
Seconds later it will dry.
No longer will my body cry.