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Cuts. Bruises. Scars.

Cuts, bruises, and scars seem to stay
On my body that begins to sway
How deep had I gone?
For this grievous deed to be done?

Shouts and cries escaped my lips
As blood trickled down my fingertips
Tears mixed in with the blood as it fell
Curses everyone as I yell

In this sorry state,
Nothing resides in my heart but hate
Looking around my room
I approach the rope of doom

The rope and ceiling meet
A sad kiss greeted by each
As I stand up on my favorite stool
To others I may look like a fool

Standing on my mini-stage I cried
More blood trickled down on my side
With bloodied hands I held the rope
Then placed my neck through the loop

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