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Sep 2014
I have a bloodstained razor blade, I use it everyday. It makes its grand appearance when no one wants to play.

I cut myself, I make me bleed just to forget the past. I put it in it's hiding place but I can find it fast.

One day I'd like to lose it, though I'm afraid of how I'd feel. I'd never hurt myself again and maybe then I'd heal.

But for now it's all I've got, maybe my only friend. Someday I'll get the help I need or will I find the end?
I wrote this poem when I was 16. I'll be 30 in December and haven't cut since I was 19.
Written by
Nicole Pruitt  Salem
(Salem)   
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