Immune

This is a poem about being too immune to cutting and not realizing it…
The sharp edge of the razor cuts my skin easily
I am immune to the pain
Immune to the blood
Too immune to realize what is happening
To realize what I am doing
One cut follows another
And another
Till I can't stop
The bloody razor falls from my grip
Blood running down my arm
I begin to cry
What have I become

By benjamin dye
Published: 3/3/2007		 Your Contributions: Tell us a Poem! You don't have to be a Buzzle.com author to contribute to Poetry Bee. Submit a poem of your own right now!
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