monday, round one

I cut myself shaving.
the blood
drips onto my shirt.
my hands.
I wipe it with a thumb
and continue on.
it's a fight.
a struggle to the death
to get this
done.
another cut, another.
I feel faint, and weak,
almost going
down onto the tiled floor.
I splash some water
onto my face.
the crimson tears
keep pouring out. i
put tissues into the cuts.
I press on.
I tell myself you can
do this, you'll be fine.
guard up, chin down.
it's just the beginning
of the day.
Monday.