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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Death · #1319883
Written when I was having a major depressive episode.
A sharp, cutting pain
slices through my wrist
as a cold thin blade
severs my veins.

My face contorts into a grimace.

After a while,
my wrist becomes numb.

I smile.

The worst is over.

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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1319883-SUICIDE