Bleeding Artistry

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How many Times did You fall ?
How many Times was it your fault ?
Were You the only one to blame ?
Something sharp sticks out of Your back

Blood, out of the back
The aftermath of sneak attack
Scars becoming spikes
Coat covering my despairing cry
Light sting, the sages said so,
It already pierced my armor, and harmed my soul

Which was pure, and undefiled
With the dirt of everyday life
Untainted by complex, and mockery

Yielding to the weight of blades,
Invisible eyes other than mine
Blend of hatred, and self-immunity,
Some of these knives are my subsidy

The beginning of deliberation,
Eventually it will lead You to
A crooked picture of Your value
Conclusion that You have lost your armor

It's your hand, your conviction
That wounds You have self-inflicted,
Make Your weak and vulnerable,
To the stares, and judgment of others

You are an artist, a creator
Drenched in sludge, and decadence
You create a new statue, a new sculpture
Representing Your worst nightmare

The most frightening image
He looks with Your eyes
He speaks with Your voice
He deepens Your pain

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