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Poetry
Top voted Poetry
#258201voted by our readers
By Anonymous
As I cut into the smooth flesh or my arm, I think about hoy much it stings with each swipe, And how weird it is that I like the pain. As I wipe the blood away, I stand there...
As I cut into the smooth flesh or my arm, I think about hoy much it stings with each swipe, And how weird it is that I like the pain. As I wipe the blood away, I stand there...