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By , Walpole, MA
Words are weightless,
And yet a commonly used weapon,
Undirected and attacks,
They leave your mouth,
To sting my face,
The verbal burn is slow to heal.
One by one,
They all appear,
Ink flows without pain,
It comes so easily,
These crimes we do to ourselves,
They’ll end us one day.
Your scars are real,
Refuse to fade,
Everyone will see them and know,
Tell you it’s a tragedy,
It’s dangerous and plain to see.
My wounds are gone during the night,
Artificial pink beats your ruby red,
There is no bloodshed.
No one will see,
They won’t ever last;
These words I write.
Your cuts spill,
My skin remains whole,
You’re being dangerous,
But not me.
They won’t hurt as yours do,
And yet,
My dangerless hobby will dispose of me.





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