The red rose blooms,

it comes to life.

Its color vibrant,

but then it dies.

Much like blood

flowing from the skin.

Bright red...

and then it thins.Red to black,

wet to dry.It makes you happy,

yet makes you cry.

The rooling blood,

the gentle rose;

you saw the cut,

and then you froze.

The flesh around the slice turns pink.

At first,

you smile,

but then you think.

Does anyone do thisbesides me?

Do they like to hurt themselves?

Do they like to bleed?

I like the way it feels,

I like the sting.

It starts off thin,

yet very deep.

By the morning,

it's opened wide.

And it's just another scar to hide.