On Purpose Poem by Kylee Bartz
On Purpose
I see the blood dripping down my arm.
Red liquid in a running line
I smell the blood dripping down my arm.
Irony and salty
I hear the blood dripping down my arm.
Making splashes as drops hit the floor
I taste the blood dripping down my arm.
Mineraly and smooth
I feel the blood dripping down my arm.
A tickle covering immense pain
Because I cut myself
On purpose
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/1/2024 1:42:18 PM # 1.0.0.1119
To inflict an injury even by mind itself is wrong. Buddha meant it. He lived it. All the best.