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May 2012
This liquid will thin our blood.
The effects won’t last nearly long enough.
A couple dozen ounces
And empathy swims through my veins.
My mind is full of nothing,
And my liver is choking on
The toxins that refuse to leave
But keep invading like
Unwanted guests at a party.
And this is the cut I gave myself.
These are the cuts we give ourselves.
My company and I will let them scab over,
And we will scratch.
Hard.
Until skin is broken.
Because we will not let this heal.
No, we are not ready to move on.
This needs to be new.
This needs to bleed.
My eyes are blurry,
My face is hot,
My tongue slurs my words.
Our bodies are rejecting our minds,
And these cuts are now scars.

So the sun will rise
And the sun will set,
And we cut ourselves open all over again.
Written by
Betty  Pennsylvania
(Pennsylvania)   
570
 
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