Different Kind Of ArtMature

I sat there watching my arm, the small dots of blood suddenly appearing along the wound,

watching, silently, until the blood dripped down my arm like the rain descending on a window. 

A drop of blood fell onto my bare legs, turning the skin scarlet; i felt alone, marooned. 

I continued watching, until a clot was formed in ambition to fix and repair the injured skin, 

and it was then, that I realized the stark contrast in our bodies compared to our minds;

to such an extent, that they could be two different people, two different personas within. 

Because, I realized how destructive and detrimental-driven our minds can be,

to make someone bring a blade to their skin, causing permanent and intended damage, 

and for this action to seem like the best, most beautiful action in the world to any degree. 

However, our bodies were built to fix us, repair us, in drive to keep us well and alive, 

when in actual fact, perhaps all we want is the complete opposite. 

We don't want to survive. 

The End

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