Running away,
Stepping on knives,
Picking up all the pieces,
Enough to think about cuts,
That blood staining the air,
Everyone breaths,
Taking the pain from me to them,
Only dream this could be,
Not sitting here telling,
Hiding away like I always have,
Black nails turning red with blood,
Dripping down and I can't stop it,
Moving my hands around in the blood,
Falling around me as I cry,
I think I need help,
I think I'm stupid;
With all these cuts and blood.
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