plip, plop,
you're filled with doubt
your knife lies bloodied
your skin's stained red
your wrists sit slit
you might as well be dead
the cuts release a river
that rushes out of you
the blood won't stop
and it doesn't plan to
the pain is great
but not quite enough
you take it a step further
because things are so rough
sticky red ooze
oh, how it flows
you're motionless now
and there your life goes.
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