What am I trying to hide, that I have a big wound inside? It cuts like a
razor through flesh, crimson begins to spill over my wrist.
A puddle of red forms from underneath my dripping wrist
I don't feel a thing though
It's the only thing that gives me life. For a brief moment I feel
alive.
It's the only thing I have left
For the rest of the world has abandoned me
 
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