She lurched toward the grubby wooden shelf,
Pouncing on its barbed ends,
Frequently as though it were a dance,
A rhythm of blue and black stains.
Collapsed, she did onto a carmine Persian rug
Feeling just a tug of pain on her abdominal,
She dug her jagged nails into her flushed upper arms,
Leaving flakes of skin as the result of self-harm.
With unaccomplished persistence she hauled herself towards the kitchen,
She hastily retrieved a sterling switchblade,
A laceration was laboured in with a degree of determination,
A snicker escaped her beaming lips.
As deliberately as possible, she lifted her wrists,
Her forefinger brushes across her lacerations,
A moan of distress filled the hollow room as she closes her eyes,
Emotions of all kinds coursed through her.
A steamed boat of water welcomed her sanguine fluid,
She dived in with full bareness and scars,
A once crystalline colour became infused with crimson,
Head dipped back she smirked with pride.
Puteri Nur Izzaty binti Zainudin, KL.