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Tuesday, May 1, 2007


Cutting
Cutting
Cutting is fun to do

When people talk about me
When people pick on me
When people do anything to hurt my feelings
I cut

At night I walk into my room with a knife
The ligth from the moon reflects
off my blade on to my face
I look out the window
Then I look at my reflection in my blade
All I see is someone who is worthless and not worth living
All that playes in my mine is all of the hurtful things people have said.

I bring the knife closer to my wrist and cut
The blood runs out of the slit
Every dorp of blood that hits the floor
Show the person I could have been

I am not looking back
I have no regrets
I have no guilt
This is what people have made me and this is who I am

~*Puppydog*~

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