Cutting

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  • Cutting

    Cutting

    One cut
    Two cuts
    Three cuts
    Four.
    I am nothing but a worthless whore
    Five cuts
    Six cuts
    Seven cuts
    Eight.
    Someone help me before its too late.
    My cuts are my battle scars
    Wounds that are the result of a raging war
    A war so intense, so horrific, so savage
    It makes WWII seem like child's play
    This is the war against myself
    Against the pain in me
    Its a constant struggle, keeping it at bay
    And sometimes i can't contain it
    And so i cut myself
    So that some of the pain seeps through
    And sets me free, temporarily
    Until i am again overwhelmed
    A cycle that will repeat
    again and again
    Until the pain conquers me

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    To have great poets there must be great audiences too.

    Walt Whitman, American Poet (1819-1892)

    pinkpnthr54’s Poems (16)

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