They glisten like red beads,
Tiny droplets splattered in parallel lines.
They're my saviour, secret and solace,
Glimmering in the beam of my bedside lamp.
Their presence reassures me,
So I extract more and more.
I have power, I'm in control,
As my anger slowly escapes me.
Those little red beads, they're growing.
Forming puddles - like pin heads
That protect me from the pain.
A pain that's sourced inside me.
The puddles join up,
Forming rivers that flow freely,
Carrying away a complicated load,
Of anger, regret, sadness and pain.
I hear footsteps, shuffling,
So I wipe away my creation.
I wipe away my feelings,
Emotions I'm terrified to tell.
Except they won't go away,
Not fully. They remain there.
A man made valley,
My frozen trail.
No amont of tablets, talking or treatment
Can extinguish the memories.
My arms, they tell a story.
A story that will never leave me.