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I'm thinking of cutting....
the knife is in the kitchen...
it's tempting to think...
not of the pain...
but of the pleasure.....
I don't know what to do.....
my parents and friends don't have a clue....
I can't help the thoughts that I think.....
just once I think....
just once.....

I pick the short knife....
I go to the bathroom
I lift up my sleeve...
And I cut...
I cut deep...

The crimson flow...
The beauty of the pain
clears my head....
I want to be dead....
But still I'm alive...
Hiding my scars...
While I survive....