Deep scars she hides
No war she has seen,
These wounds spring forth
From thoughts so unclean,
They declare her repulsive
That she is unfit,
So she makes true these words
With a knife and a slit.
Again and again her flesh
She does tear
No remorse or redemption
Can bring forth repair.
She makes truth of their words
Pure skin torn to shreds
Still no haste to stop
The beast is unfed.
Words so unkind
Pour forth from their lips
Worse words still come forth,
From her soul they rip.
With a heart long since absent
No life left to pretend
The blade she does place.
Her steel-crimson friend.
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