I'm Not Bleeding It Out

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I'm not bleeding it out.

There are no razors to touch my skin,

none to cut it.

Bleeding does not help.

Not like others said.

Physical pain is not a cure,

for this kind of agony.

It is not a release from this self imprisonment.

I'm not bleeding it out.

No.

My feelings won't seep out with a simple cut.

I'm too complex for that.

There is no simple way.

I tried.

It didn't work.

No release that way.

I will find my release,

but I'm not bleeding it out.

I'm overflowing, seeping, bursting.

Not bleeding.

Oh.

The first person I ever knew to bleed.

I understand his urge now.

The urge to feel some other type of pain.

No.

It is not the way my friend.

My best friend,

forever lost to me,

among his own mind.

He's bleeding it out,

but there is nothing left.

Nothing left that was funny.

Nothing left that was warm.

What happened,

my friend,

to desroy you?

Please. 

Don't bleed it out.

Cry it out.

Scream it out.

Feel it out.

Don't bleed it out.

Forgive yourself.

Forgive me.

I write this out.

I sing this out.

This is my blood without bleeding.

This is my heart without screaming.

See it?

It's right here.

Never bleed it out.

We are people.

We scream, sing, burst, cry, break, and love.

We bleed.

But don't bleed it out.

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