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I sharpen a wooden pencil, whilst they sharpen a blade, I open up a one-subject notebook, they roll up their sleeve. I press the graphite to a page, and they against their skin, And their relief comes in as blood, while mine only comes in ink.

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Written by

wasitsjusterin

Published: Jul 29, 2013
LinesWords: 946

Notes: July 29, 2013 /itsjusterin
Tags: #ink #blood #selfharm

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