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You carve your art on my skin,
From neck to toe,
You put a cross.

You used a razor blade,
And cut deep,
Crosses,
On my skin,
Crosses,
You have sinned.
I went to a party last night at my friends house and had "fun". He let me crash there and when I fell asleep some girl carved crosses on my skin. My friend said that he saw a girl go into the room and she was in there for a while, so I think I need to have a little conversation with her about that.
I see you sitting there,
Out of reach,
By a hair.
" Cut yourself"

Just a cut
Just a scratch
"What's that mark?"
"It was the cat."
Just an excuse
Just a lie
"What's with all the bracelets?"
" Just fashion, why?"
Just a tear
Just a scream
" Why were you crying?"
"Just a bad dream."
But it's not just a cut, or a tear, or a lie
It's 'just one more' until you die
this poem is about me
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