deepundergroundpoetry.com
imagine that..
my mom calls it crazy, my dad calls it sick.. i call it beauty, the lovely red and thick.. im addicted to the blade, i dont want to stay away.. if im happy sad or even mad i cant stay away.. that quick second of pain.. gives me such a rush, i cant explain.. so i take the blade, count to three anf cut myself to see it bleed. its my escape, its my way out.. silently i scream and shout. bur the outside world doesnt understand, this addiction i have and this blade in my hand..
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