uhm.. cutting?

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
title says it all...

Submitted: April 09, 2013

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Submitted: April 09, 2013

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The tight skin on my wrist,
has been cut loose.
the droozing blood, flowing out of my arm
creates a puddle against my feet.
 
The only thing i can think about
is doing it once more.
 
Even though i know,
your eyes get sore
from seeing the scars on my wrists
the stained blood on my sleeves
and the empty razors, with stolen blades.
 
everytime you hear the click from the door.
you come running.
it doesnt matter to you, that your stepping in a puddle of blood.
coming from outside the door.
you just want to save me.
 
its funny how most call it life
when im not living.
just surviving.
 


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