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I see
Just a knife
Just a razor
Or just a shard of glass
You look at them and see just what they are
I look at them, and I see something else
I see an escape, a night of tears
I see cuts on my skin, blood stained tears
I see the scars, I see the looks I get when people see them
I see the shame, the jackets and pants in the summer heat
I see the regret but doing it again the next night
I see the lies I tell my friend and family
"Oh, it was just my stupid cat"
"Oh, I cut myself cooking dinner"
I see the doctors I'm sent to, the people that try to fix me
You might see a knife, a razor, and just a shard of glass
But me?
All I see is one more night that my depression wins
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I was inspired to write this because I self harm. And one night, instead of cutting, I wrote this poem. And I want to share it. So people understand that self harm shouldnt' be romantized, or called beautiful. It is a serious problem and not to be joked about. I also hope that some people can learn why we do what we do or what our brains become once we start doing this.