The Fight


You cut.

You slice.

You mangle your arm.


You cry.

You scream.

And pretend it does no harm.


The words.

The judgment.

They replay in your mind.


So you grab

For that blade.

And promise it's the last time.



And bangles

To cover the scars.


You take

Those pills.

And drift to the stars.


You pray,

You hope

That you do not wake


You tell


It's for everyone's sake.


You begin

To slip

And become the night.


You feel

So great

That this is the last fight.



You twist.

You turn.

Your stomach becomes weak.


And then

Those pills

Return to your cheek.


You run

And get sick

Then finally say,


"The pain's

Not worth it.

I've decided to stay."



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