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This was another one of the poems I wrote when I used to cut.

Submitted:Jun 1, 2012    Reads: 25    Comments: 2    Likes: 2   

My wrists wrapped in barbed wire.

My Heart locked in a cage, somewhere

Very Far Away.

Where it just continues to grow colder

and older.

Scars turn gray

But still remind of the pain.

Trying to find my way

But no exit to the damn├Ęd place.


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