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Red lines appear

As the razor pierces through her skin

Each cut deeper than the last

Closer to the vein

A classic case of self-inflicted pain

 

Blood trickles down profusely

Refusing to stop

As it falls on the marbled floor

Drop by drop

 

Her sore blood-stained hands

Search new places to injure

It’s the re-emergence of an old habit

Trying to fill this void of loneliness

This endless feeling of helplessness

 

The pungent smell appalls her to no end

Ashamed of being so weak

She promises to cease this form of self-mutilation

But even to her own ears

The words sound hollow

She knows her intentions will change again tomorrow

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