The Other

Cold glass, how you insert yourself

Between myself and myself.

I scratch like a cat.

The blood that runs is dark fruit---

An effect, a cosmetic.

You smile.No, it is not fatal.

- Sylvia Plath

This poem is not a suicide poem, it is a poem about Self-Injury. The speaker in the poem tells how she relieved by the effect of seeing her blood run, letting out her distress. She covers up her wounds with cosmetics, and then people would see her beautiful again.