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Cuts
I’m covered in scars
That were once cuts
There are new and old ones
Some as deep as my gut
They take away pain
For a short amount of time
Even though they hurt
It feels no crime
There’s one for her
There’s one for him
The one up my arm
Is one for Kim
There’s another for me
Also one from you
What about another one
Actually make that two
Watch me bleed
Hear me lie
Don’t pretend to care
I want to die
poem
by
Lisa French
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