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Cool, smooth, sharp-cut.
"You raise the blade, You make the change, You rearrange me till I'm sane." Brain Damage - Pink Floyd
Why is it never quiet?
Why are "They" so loud?
Why are "They" in my head?

Why am I not dead?
Mental, emotional, social.
Mental.
Voices, Nightmares, Flashes, Hell.
Sanity, spent.
Time, lost.
Mind, mental.
Blade, on wrist.
Blood, pours.
Life, lost.
Now read it back all the words backwards. This is my first time trying a poem like this so it's not my best.

Backwards-
(Lost, life.
Pours, blood.
Wrist on, blade.
Mental, mind.
Lost, time.
Spent, sanity.)
Noise, pain, voices, darkness.
I think I'm back, I'm not sure yet so my poetry posting might be a bit spotty for the next few days.
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