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It Isn't Worth It
The sharp blade
Felt dense silver
In my left palm.
I look up
To the eyes
Of grey-
Soulless,
Carved empty pits
Of grief
And overwhelm.
Mascara runs down
The reflection's
Sad visage,
A symbol
Of crestfallen
Status.
I think.
I am done.
I am through.
I give up.
I press the egde
To the softest
Of skin,
And glide.
Leaving a trail of
Crimson.
It hurts.
It Isn't worth it.

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This article has 3 comments.
A good friend of mine had been cutting for a very long time. I kept consoling her to stop, that it wasn't a solution. I hope that others going through bullying will understand that cutting won't help you in anything- you are beautiful, there are just horrible monsters out there that are too blind to see it.