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May 2018
When I sliced that tender flesh
Bleeding still, so ever fresh

It was not that I tried to die
But because I wanted to feel alive

So save me from this aching death
One of hatred and harsh breath

Suffering on the inside
My bleeding heart, now bleeding thighs

My throat choked and wailed
As my sadness was veiled

So help them, and help us all
Whose ripped skin is a pleading call
I know I'm sharing a lot of depressing poems lately. Do not be concerned. These are all my old poems from when I was depressed or I'm writing from past experiences. I just recently have gotten the courage to share them. Love you all :)
Written by
E McNamara  18/F/in the ocean
(18/F/in the ocean)   
  287
     𝔞, Mel, Fawn, --- and Amanda
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