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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Experience · #1605302
A poem about life
I complete my ritual
and watch blood run down the drain
Waiting, just waiting
for it to release my pain

I find that my cuts
aren't healing as they once were.
I feel the blood leave my body
and I thought I was so sure.

I think about how he hurt me
and blink away the tears.
I know if someone found the cuts
they'd think of my in fear.

Confessing my lack of love
to those who do not mind
Hating myself for knowing
I've put them in a bind.

I know this habit is bad
but it's the only thing that helps.
And even when I do it
I feel my heart melt.

Hate rushes through me
as I think of what I've done.
For those who do not know me
could do nothing but shun.

I just want you to look at me
and think of me as a child.
The one you never had
to think of all the while.

This thing I've become
acustom to brings me
one step closer to death.
But then just maybe you would see.

I've always needed you
And you never needed me.
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