Pounding against my skull,

The pain -- pressure

it builds up. 

Through screams and sweat-soaked memories

a hand extends into the darkness

It flashes silver.

Its shining metal can make me go mental

new silver

Not dull, overused, or rusted at the seams

Shiny new and sharp like knives and so so enticing

Who could resist?

Take the flashing silver hand

It cuts into me

but I'm not bleeding

I'm okay now, actually

I can take on the world and my thoughts and the memories

because my arms sting and my wrists are full and the silver is stained and happy

I hate you,

but I can't help but to, well, 

thank you,

New silver.