i'm addicted to cutting

The blood doesn't pour out anymore,
But the scares still show,
Will these wounds heal or be forever sore,
The memories shine a bright glow.

The pain still remains,
The tears still fall,
Rivers of the blood still stains,
My wall remains tall.

A razor blade craved into my wrist,
Every cut shows pain,
Every scar has a story with a twist,
To many problems to explain.

There is no where to hide,
No reason to even try,
Inside I have already died,
As I disappear, I break down and cry.

This poem is about: 
Me

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