Cut Deep
I rip my skin away,
searching for something new underneath.
I’m tired.
Exhausted.
Weak.
My soul — cracked,
bruised,
and beat.
The game has no end,
and I can no longer compete.
My fingers are bloody
from holding on so tightly
to this cliff that has no peak.
I close my eyes
and rest a while —
every inch of me
is broken.
These fingers
cannot hold much longer.
This soul
has had all it can take.
The world has lost its color —
all that remains
are drops of red.