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The Knife

The deeper it gets,
The more I cry.
The deeper it gets,
I feel more alive.
The deeper it gets,
The more I die.
The deeper it gets,
I feel calmer inside.

My own blood
Sliding down
as an echo of tears
Isn’t enough to shock me awake.
Where am I?
How long has it been?
How did I get here?

The knife is my enemy,
The knife is my friend,
The knife is my shame,
The knife is my bed.

The knife is my own two hands,
Fingers the handles,
Nails the blade.

The reality I cradle
And cry myself to sleep
to every night
As I slowly disappear and fade




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