as the blade moves across my skin,
as the dark warm blood runs from my wrist,
pooling on the icy floor,
i feel nothing,
i feel nothing just as i have every other second of my wake,
i feel completely empty,
i know not of emotion,
every bloody line is a pointless attempt to feel,
to feel something,
people speak yet i comprehend nothing,
people see love i see nothing,
and when I'm gone,
when the last drop of blood is spilt,
the world will know nothing of my passing,
for in this world of love and hate,
pain and happiness,
i am neither,
I'm but a waste of space,
and invisible is so close to nothing,
and in my eyes,
which seem to be the only ones to ever see me,
i might as well be,
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