Blood tattoo

The blade slicing deep
my skin opens with out resistance,
I grit my teeth
to stop myself making a sound,
my parents are home
and they mustn't know,
the red flows from my arm
like a serpent hunting its prey,
from the angle I’m looking i must say
the blood is a tattoo on my skin,
a kind of disturbed tribal pattern
which looks better the more blood it takes,
at least when I’m dead
it's only the heart that breaks.