by amyleepassmore
I burn,
I cut,
I scratch,
I cry,
But not enough to make me die.
The pain rolls over in a searing wave, Causing the feelings I longingly crave.
The cut on my thigh drips scarlet red to the floor, But my cravings are longing, longing for more.
Longing for hurt, Longing for pain, Anything that will distract my mind for this tormenting day.
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