i found this in someones diary...its amazing..i wish i cud write like this.. Her lifeblood runs swiftly just under her skin She picks up the knife, wond'ring where to begin She thinks to herself what a strange state she's in She tries to remember that this is a sin The candlelight flashes as she moves the blade The blood wells up, slowly, in the cut she has made She knows the game well, the last hand has been played And somehow, she isn;t the least bit afraid The blade moves again in a long curving arc And leaves a line paralell to the first mark She ponders the pattern; a light in the dark? Will she be saved by a creative spark? Once more, the blade moves, now with purpose and thought A three-sided form now her focus has caught Together, the forces which earlier fought Are etching her wrist with a small celtic knot Now spirals spring forth from the three pointed ends She next rubs in ink, with the blood it soon blends Though with time and care, the once-parted skin mends She cannot explain it to most of her friends.