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Poetry By: Chrysta
Young adult

The deepest cut.

Submitted:May 12, 2009    Reads: 112    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   

Even though the blood is already flowing,

The razor under my skin,

I think of the many things that I will miss.

Pausing,blade against wrist,

All these things flying past me.

While the blood dries,

I am getting weaker.

In a minute,I'll be dead.


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