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It’s really very simple,

I live by the blade.

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A slow trickle of crimson,

A sharp breath of euphoria.

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Penetrate the skin,

Not too deep.

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A feeling of elation.

Quick and steady release.

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Throbbing reminders, you want it.

Pulsing ever at my brain, more, more!

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A pen, a pencil,

A sharpened paper clip.

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Scissors, an earring,

A rough piece of wood.

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Scarlet lines, so beautiful.

You can’t help but smile.

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A raised scar, forever hideous.

They look away, disgust.

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A secret thrill, for your eyes alone.

No one knows, a hidden pleasure.

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Dark voices whisper, never silent.

It’s more than a crying wound, an addiction.

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Act normal,

Don’t give them a reason.

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You see the knife, the razor.

You think about all they could give you.

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Ever persistent ramblings,

It would be so sweet.

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It provokes the fire,

Veins run ablaze.

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No, you will say, denial once more.

That would make it too real.

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Hesitant neglect,

That doesn’t stop the fantasies.

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Until the next time the blade comes knocking.

The truth will await, hidden from all.

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