When I write - Sometimes

Whenever my hand reaches for a pen,
my soul solemnly leaves my body
and my mind starts its own imagination.

Whenever I attempt writing about love,
my consciousness reminds me of all the hurt
and bruises it left me with.

Whenever I try to speak to my heart,
she turns her face away and pretends I'm
talking to myself. She says I can do better.

Whenever I look at my wrists,
I remember how I carved too sharp one night
and I felt into deep sleep. I thought I was dying.

When I write, sometimes I'm alive.
On some days, I die while scripting
to only wake up bleeding.