Cutting Room

The discontent of bottled up feelings
Hot heavy teardrops scald, but never fall
Smiling grimly in atonement dealings
Pierced, thinly slicing, heed the scarring call

The metaled stiletto cutting room beckons
in thin-lined rivlets of red-running blood
All pervasive, persuasive reckoning
bright illumination, pain-released flood

The flowing fount of my point's conclusion
Addiction is the pathos path to me
Disfigurement is no grand illusion
Transfiguration is the guiding key

The evil demons loose their clawing grasp
When I unlock Pandora's golden clasp