Crimson

I sit here

Hugging my knees

Hiding from my fears

Of Darkness, Loneliness, and bees

I imagine myself

Curled in a ball

Trying to get smaller

From the world and it’s call

My cheeks feel hot

But also wet

The taste of salt

Of the blood in my sweat

Foggy clouds

Blur my vision

From dried vision

With lack of precision

The k-nife

Rests in its case

Beckoning my hand toward it

To take it out of its place

I resist the urge

and Draw back my hand

To hold my legs closer now feeling like sand

The blood flows downs

From my eyes in my tension

Now I can tell my friends

My tears are crimson