Rivers

Anxiety rips at my core

Like a knife – carves at my flesh

Jagged, uncertain lines

Blood rises to the surface

Leaks out from tattered

Crimson-soaked skin

Runs down my chest,

Making rivers of my legs

Warm, wet, slick

Pooling at my feet

Dripping between cracks

Of well-worn floorboards

Looking down, I sigh,

This is certain to leave a stain.

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