Comfort at a Price

On comforting the beast within. ***MAY TRIG

Shiny metal glints
Laying within my bed;
My solace for the evening.
I run my fingers accross
Smooth, cold, uncaring;
It offers me its love,
At a price.
Smiling, I accept its offer.

Skimming accross the surface
Of a warm, distraught body;
Slicing through so gently.
Brutally stinging as I smile;
The comfort rushes over me,
As the blood runs gracefully.
Rivers of red that save me
Run their course down my arms.

"Who is this girl?" I wonder,
Looking down upon my damaged flesh.
I know her not, though somewhere
Something tells me
She is me, and she is crying
Deep within her soul, yet
No tears skim down her face
For the comfort cleanses her.