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★★★★★ (1)
Rated: GC · Poetry · Death · #2222444

A short poem about suicide and pain

A flick , a rip , a twisted grip.
A hack , a slice , my arms i dice.
This perfect little portrait
Im painting for you.
My wrist is the canvas,
my razor is the brush.
My blood is the paint I choose
My picture is my pain I lose.


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