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Beautiful
Copyright, Alicia
I see her now, sitting in the dark,
Her hands tug at her hair.
I can almost hear her heart,
As she sits and crouches there.
She has a blade on one side,
On the other I find a match,
She knows this isn't right,
But she wants to feel attached.
She pushes the metal against her arm,
Slowly moving down.
Blood is the sign of her self-harm,
She prays it won't be found.
Slowly she begins to feel alive,
Her blood a sign of pain.
Not the pain she caused herself,
A pain that's not the same.
This pain is in her heart,
Scarred deep inside her soul.
Her cutting is a form of art,
To her it's Beautiful.