A Canvas Of Splattered Red









A Canvas Of Splattered Red catharsis stories
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inBow ties are cool. So are sociopaths. 😜
Autoplay OFF  •  9 days ago
A poem about a story of survival, for @hanniecakes's challenge prompt, 'catharsis.' Thanks for reading. :) <3

A Canvas Of Splattered Red

C A T H A R S I S The process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong or repressed emotions.

Pull tighter,

Pull tighter, I dare you~

Pull tighter, I dare you~ Scrape your nails against my scored flesh,

Pull tighter, I dare you~ Scrape your nails against my scored flesh, Look me in the eyes,

Pull tighter, I dare you~ Scrape your nails against my scored flesh, Look me in the eyes, (without remorse),

Pull tighter, I dare you~ Scrape your nails against my scored flesh, Look me in the eyes, (without remorse), I'm just a pity pleasure to you.

I see that grin on your face,

I see that grin on your face, As you watch scarlet run down my arms

I see that grin on your face, As you watch scarlet run down my arms Dribble down to create

I see that grin on your face, As you watch scarlet run down my arms Dribble down to create m y r e a l i t y.

I could lie,

I could lie, say you hurt me,

I could lie, say you hurt me, Held me hostage in my own mind,

I could lie, say you hurt me, Held me up like a docile puppet,

I could lie, say you hurt me, Held me up like a docile puppet, Took a blade to my marked canvas,

I could lie, say you hurt me, Held me up like a docile puppet, Took a blade to my marked canvas, You bold Picasso.

But you created a mess that was never yours,

But you created a mess that was never yours, For these aren't scars,

But you created a mess that was never yours, For these aren't bruises,

But you created a mess that was never yours, For these aren't wounds,

But you created a mess that was never yours, For these aren't wounds, They are openings,

But you created a mess that was never yours, For these aren't wounds, They are openings, My lifeblood seeps out and marks

But you created a mess that was never yours, For these aren't wounds, They are openings, My lifeblood seeps out and marks My effort of endurance.

These aren't screams,

These aren't screams, they're attempts,

These aren't screams, they're attempts, As I thrust towards those tides of calamity,

These aren't screams, they're attempts, As I thrust towards those tides of calamity, As known to me as my scored body.

So you may think that I'll turn away,

So you may think that I'll turn away, Out of disgust,

So you may think that I'll turn away, Out of disgust, repulsion.

So you may think that I'll turn away, Out of disgust, repulsion. B u t n o .

I'll dip my fingers into my puddles of rust,

I'll dip my fingers into my puddles of rust, And upon these witnessing walls,

I'll dip my fingers into my puddles of rust, And upon these witnessing walls, Paint

I'll dip my fingers into my puddles of rust, And upon these witnessing walls, Paint and paint.

Use my tears as a solvent

Use my tears as a solvent And my bones as a brush.

Use my tears as a solvent And my bones as a brush. My story of survival.

Let them spill your blood, if you have to. But never let them privy to your mind.

Let them spill your blood, if you have to. But never let them privy to your mind. ~Iqra.

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