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Surface Impact
My thighs are bleeding, and I am proud
I’m proud of myself for coping
I know I shouldn’t be but I am
I’m a disgusting person.
He was right for leaving
His replacement was right about everything too
Girls like me can’t find love, what was I thinking?
How dare I fool myself into having hope
My chest, and stomach, and thighs might hurt
But at least my throat doesn’t
At least I avoided the one thing god knows I wanted to do more than anything
At least my food is in my stomach, and my tears in my eyes instead of being mixed together on my bathtub floor
Now it’s just my blood
And that will heal
Will it heal? Will it ever?
Or does that cut go deeper than the surface after all
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